Legacy
by Kelly
Summary: A New Hope from ObiWan's point of view. Revised.
1. I

**LEGACY**

I originally wrote this in 1999 after _The Phantom Menace_ first came out. Obi-Wan really blew me away and changed my entire perception of the classic trilogy.

A lot of what I wrote was contradicted by _Attack of the Clones _and_ Revenge of the Sith_, so I revised it last summer (2005) after seeing ROTS. I only just recently discovered I still had an account on ffdn, so I'm only getting around to posting now.

**Disclaimer:** I own none of this, it's all been borrowed from Uncle George's universe. Even the plot isn't mine; only the interpretation of Obi-Wan's reactions to the plot are. It's just one of many possible takes on what might have been going on his head during the events of ANH. Your mileage may vary.

**Spoilers:** ANH, TPM, AOTC, ROTS, parts of "Hammerhead's Tale" and "A Spacer's Tale" from Tales from the Mos Eisley Cantina, and some minor details from Labyrinth of Evil and the Jedi Apprentice books, particularly #2, #4, and #5, and The Last of the Jedi: The Desperate Mission. Also the brilliant ROTS novelization by Matthew Stover, which may be the best movie novelization of all time. Read it if you haven't already.

**Acknowledgments:** Thanks to all the people who helped me with original research in 1999, especially to Beth and Paula, who pointed me towards important passages in Tales from the Mos Eisley Cantina, to Ghitsa and Yav who helped me thrash out the final scene, and to Marty, who found a map of Tatooine that was indispensable to the first three chapters. I'm also greatly indebted to whoever made that brilliant map of the GFFA in R.A. Salvatore's book, Vector Prime. Made my life so much easier (I love maps, can you tell?) Most importantly, a huge thanks to Yav, who not only beta-tested the original, but the revision as well. She also put up with my constant barrage of queries during the writing process and let me bounce ideas off of her. If she hadn't pointed out the huge communications array seen outside of Ben's home in the Special Edition, the first two chapters would have been completely different. By the way, Yav, ghost slash is still sick and wrong, but I'm not above leaving it open to… certain points of view. :VEG:

And most of all, it's All. About. Obi-Wan.

**

* * *

**

**I**

_I am twenty-five again. I am Obi-Wan Kenobi, young, strong, cocky; a Jedi Padawan fighting at my Master's side. It is the Battle of Naboo and we are fighting a Sith Lord, Darth Maul, in the power station inside the Great Temple in Theed._

_I can feel the Force flowing through me, connecting me to Master Qui-Gon, but it is not enough. Maul knocks me off the catwalk and I land several levels below. Now I have to play catch-up as Qui-Gon continues the battle alone. He presses Maul towards the corridor, the one with the cycling barriers. I leap up to join them and run as fast as I can, but am caught between the first and second barriers, several sections away from Qui-Gon and Maul. As Qui-Gon kneels and mediates, I shut down my lightsaber and concentrate. This time I will run fast enough. This time I will make it in time..._

_The barrier cycles off and I spring forward, but it as if I am stuck in molasses. I can barely move my legs forward. Centimeter by painful centimeter I trudge forward, trying to get free, trying to move quickly. The corridor stretches out before me, endless, and Qui-Gon and Maul seem kilometers away. But the barriers miraculously remain open. Finally I am in the last section. This time I will make it! I have to make it!_

_THUD! The final barrier slams shut before me, and I watch in frustration and horror as Maul wears down my Master. A butt to the chin, then a back-hand thrust with his double-edged saber and Qui-Gon is down._

"_Noooooooo!" I scream, my rage and grief pouring out in one long cry. Maul then turns his attention to me and taunts me, waiting for the barrier to cycle off again so he can finish me off as well. I take a deep breath and try to focus on the Force. I look down to gather myself and see my hands gripping the handle of my lightsaber. They are creased and spotted with age. Fear and confusion squeeze my heart as I reach for my face with one hand, my other hand still gripping my lightsaber. My face feels weathered and worn and my chin is covered with a beard._

_Then I hear the breathing. _

_The Force becomes ice cold around me as a dark presence fills me, at once both achingly familiar and as foreign as rain on Tatooine. I look up and it is not Darth Maul's red and black tattooed face I see, but the gleaming ebony helmet of Darth Vader. No longer am I the Padawan, I am now the Master, and it is my own Padawan who waits for me. Waits to kill me. _

_The surroundings have changed as well. I realize we are no longer above the melting pit in the Naboo power station and I expect to instead smell the burning sulfur and feel the oppressive heat from the lava of the volcanic planet Mustafar. Mustafar, where we dueled for the last time, the only time not as partners but as enemies. Mustafar, where Anakin Skywalker died. Mustafar, where Darth Vader was born. But this cannot be Mustafar, either, because I am unbearably cold. Instead, we are somewhere I do not recognize. Vader is standing in a long, curved hallway of dark, polished metal. An Imperial ship, most likely. But I no longer have time to wonder at the change... the barrier is off and I am face to face with my former apprentice._

_I am no longer twenty-five. I am not Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi; I am Ben Kenobi, foolish old hermit. Though my connection with the Force is as strong as ever, my physical body cannot move like it once did. I should be an easy target for Vader, even with all his mechanical parts. But he is toying with me, savoring the game like a womp-rat with its trapped prey. Relishing every moment until he finally strikes, a lateral movement across my midsection. The same blow I'm supposed to be using to kill Darth Maul._

_As he strikes, I am not aware of the lightsaber going through me. I am only aware of one thing: the sound of a scream, an echo of my own cry when Qui-Gon fell. There, in the corridor behind the laser barrier where I watched Darth Maul bring down my Master, stands a young man dressed in farmer's clothes, crying out in anguish as I fall..._

* * *

I woke up with a start, my heart pounding and my bedclothes soaked through with sweat.

_A dream, _I told myself. _It was only a dream._

I sat up, took a deep breath, and ran through a quick Jedi calming exercise until my heart stopped pounding. When I felt at peace again, I opened my eyes then got up, grabbed my somewhat tattered brown robe from the back of a nearby chair, and wrapped myself in its comforting and familiar warmth. Looking out the window, I could see that the sky was just beginning to turn pink; Tatoo I was not yet visible over the horizon and the air in my home was still brisk from the cold desert night. Shivering, even wrapped in my robe, I made my way to the kitchen and put a kettle on the stove to make some tea. It was not the chill in the air, however, that made me feel so cold, I realized. Rather, it was the remnants of my dream, of the dark cold presence of my former apprentice. I knew there was no point in trying to go back to sleep.

_It was only a dream._

I have never been one to be overly concerned with dreams. Although I know they can be a medium through which the Force shows us the future, I also know the future is always in motion and dreams can mislead. They also can be nothing more than the fevered worry of an old man. But this dream... I'd had the exact same dream for the past five straight nights and it troubled me. Not only because of the dream itself, but because for those same five nights I sensed something, a disturbance in the Force. Something that tied all of us together: myself, Qui-Gon, Vader... and Luke.

_I have a bad feeling about this._

That in and of itself bothered me. Luke Skywalker was eighteen and the time for his training was at hand, of that I was certain. This, then, should be a time of great relief for me, to at last begin my final mission, to take on my last Padawan. Then again, look what became of my first.

Perhaps for the first time in my life, I fully understood why Qui-Gon Jinn was so reluctant to take me on as his apprentice all those many years ago. Before me, he too had failed a Padawan and lost him to the dark side. Had the thought of taking on the responsibility of another young man's journey into the Force filled him with as much sheer terror as it did me? One lost student is enough for any Jedi's lifetime--and oh the student _I_ lost! I could understand Qui-Gon's reluctance, but the stakes were much higher now. Then there were thousands of Jedi, more than enough to deal with a few lost to the dark side. Now, to the best of my knowledge, there remained only two living Jedi, and the dark side had full reign. To lose Luke would be to lose our last hope. I could not fail him the way I failed Anakin. Whereas Qui-Gon had feared losing another Padawan, I feared losing the entire galaxy.

Sighing, I pulled my cloak tighter around me. This sort of fatalistic thinking was doing no one any good. My kettle had come to boil, so I quickly made myself some tea, then decided to drink it out on the front steps. Tatoo I had just shown itself above the horizon and Tatoo II would not be far behind, so perhaps I could warm myself outside. I shook my head, chiding myself at this thought. In an hour I'd be desperately wishing for relief from the heat. Foolish old man. Nevertheless, I did go outside and sat in the early morning light, sipping my tea and mulling over my future. Luke's future.

It had been more than eighteen years since Luke and I first came to Tatooine: Luke as an infant to be cared for by Anakin's stepbrother Owen and his wife Beru, myself as a defeated old man. I snorted at that: I had been only thirty-eight then, hardly old. But I had _felt _ancient, even then. A self-deposed Jedi Knight, I was one of only a very few to survive Order Sixty-Six: the Jedi Purge. Plagued both by survivor's guilt and the more specific responsibility of having failed to adequately train the Jedi who would lead the Clone Troopers in the march on the Temple and personally slaughter padawans and younglings, those too young and inexperienced to be offworld fighting in the wars, I had already bent and worn with grief when I arrived here. Tatooine, then, was my penance. Even then I had known that I would spend most of the rest of my life here, watching and waiting.

I would have liked to have cared for Luke myself. He was all I had left of the man I'd loved as both a brother and a son, but Luke belonged with a real family. My failure to Anakin was still an open wound and Luke needed a more nurturing home than I could provide. Besides, it was too dangerous. If Anakin decided to seek me out and found me with a young child, he would have known the truth—his son lived. So instead I watched Luke from afar as Owen and Beru raised him. Even from a distance, however, I felt as if I'd formed a bond of sorts with the boy. I cheered on his accomplishments, I suffered with him through his disappointments, and was incredibly proud of the fine young man he'd become. Though headstrong and impatient (qualities I knew all too well; the words had often been used to describe me), he had an incredibly noble spirit and a thirst for justice, and I believed these combined with his innate—if largely untapped— sense of the Force would make him a powerful Jedi. Of course, all of these same traits could also be attributed to Anakin, at least the Anakin I had known and loved. The only difference between them would lie in their chosen paths. Anakin chose the dark path; I could only hope that Luke would choose better, and that I would be a more discerning guide to him than I was to his father.

It was difficult to be any sort of guide at all, however, while Owen stood between us. He would have preferred it if I didn't even reside in the same system with Luke and wouldn't allow me to teach him even the most rudimental aspects of the Force. Not that I could blame him. Although he was smart enough to discount the Emperor's story of the Jedi rebellion, we had lost the trust of most beings in the galaxy. Where once the Jedi and specifically the names _Kenobi and Skywalker_ had been words of comfort, something that helped younglings across the Republic sleep well, secure in the knowledge that all that was wrong could be set right, now the former brought to mind fear and distrust while the latter had been largely forgotten, casualties of the tragic but necessary purge of that treacherous and rebellious sect. While he knew it was all lies and propaganda, Owen was in no hurry to see Luke follow in his father's footsteps, even without knowing the full extent of where those footsteps led. Although to be honest, there were times that I wondered if perhaps Owen didn't suspect the truth about his stepbrother. He had to know about the slaughter of the tribe of Sand People that had kidnapped and killed Anakin's mother and could not doubt who had been responsible. The similarity between the completeness of the massacre there and the one three years later at the Jedi Temple would not be lost on someone as bright as Owen Lars. He had even tried to change Luke's name to Lars, but Beru had not allowed it. Beru believed in family—a lesson the Jedi, to our shame, learned too late—and would want her child to be raised knowing his heritage. I was fairly certain that unlike her husband, Beru didn't suspect Anakin's true fate, but she did know that he had once been a strong and courageous man. _Kenobi and Skywalker _still lived in her heart and it is what she wanted to teach Luke. Owen, however, told him lies to discourage interest in his father, his heritage. But I knew I could count on Beru to teach Luke the power of family and he remained a Skywalker, and that was all I needed. For the rest, I could be patient.

Of course, allowing Luke even this much of his birthright presented certain challenges as well. There was always the danger that he would be discovered, although I was convinced he was safe here on Tatooine, the planet where Anakin had lived as a slave and had lost his mother. As such, it was the one place I believed he would never visit again, although as Luke grew older, protecting him became more of a challenge. Not long ago, Luke had decided that he wanted to attend, of all things, the Imperial Academy. This, of course, would be suicide. The name Skywalker may be able to escape notice in the Outer Rim, but certainly not at the Academy! Owen discouraged him, of course, and it may well be the only time Owen and I have ever agreed on anything concerning Luke, although I'm sure Owen wouldn't want him to go to the Academy regardless of his name. Owen discouraged anything that might possibly entail Luke "getting involved," as he put it. So he gave they boy excuse after excuse to keep him on the farm. I knew it wouldn't last; I think Beru knew it too. The day would come when Luke would insist. That is when I would have to intervene. Luke would not go to the Academy; he would come to me. And this Owen fought with every ounce of strength he had.

I leaned back on the doorjamb and stroked my beard idly while gazing up into the cloudless morning sky. Owen's resistance notwithstanding, the time was very near. Soon I would have my chance to atone for my failures--or to compound them. I shivered and retreated even further into the folds of my cloak.

Just then, an odd flash of light caught my attention, high in the sky to the northwest, over the Dune Sea. It was hard to see, barely visible now that both suns had completely risen, but then I saw it again, a green streak that looked for all the galaxy like laser fire from a ship in orbit. That in itself was not odd— though a small, Outer Rim world, Tatooine was situated along the Corellian Trade Run and was therefore a perfect haven for smugglers, bounty hunters, and other lawless types who were wont to fire at each other with only the slightest provocation. What was strange was that I could _see _the laser fire in the daytime; the two rising suns should have completely masked it. A ship would have to have quite a lot of firepower for its laser batteries to be visible from the ground in the daytime. Frowning, I rose and went inside to my workbench. After a bit of rummaging, I found what I was looking for: a pair of macrobinoculars. I quickly went back outside and trained the binoculars on the place where I thought I had seen the flashes. After a bit of searching, I found what I was looking for: streaks of green light between two silvery specks in the sky. Or more accurately, one speck and one more elongated shape, like a drop of water that had started to run down a window pane.

Frowning, I lowered the binocs. The second ship, the elongated one, must be enormous to be so easily seen with nothing more powerful than macro-binoculars. Much bigger than any ship a pirate or smuggler would have. It could be only one thing: an Imperial warship. A cruiser, or maybe even a Star Destroyer.

Again I shivered. What would an Imperial warship be doing over Tatooine? It was true enough that the planet was officially Imperial territory, but only a small contingent of troops were ever kept here and the Empire very rarely bothered to even try to maintain order. For the most part, the Hutts still controlled the planet, just as they had in the days of the Old Republic. So what, then, could be important enough to bring a large Imperial warship here? And what was it shooting at?

Before long the shooting stopped. Whatever the Imperials had been chasing was either dead or captured, no doubt. Once more I drew my robe tightly around me, suddenly feeling even colder—and just why _was _I so cold anyway? By now, with both suns shining brightly I should be sweating! Why was that dream still affecting me? Even as troubling as this particular dream was, never had its affects lasted so far into the morning.

It was then that I realized the truth, and my blood turned to ice and my lungs felt as if I had breathed in a ground glass. _The cold was not from within, a remnant from my dream; it was outside of me. _A presence in the Force.

Only with great effort did I restrain myself from jumping up and reaching into my belt for my lightsaber, which would have been a foolish move indeed considering I hadn't even put on my belt yet, let alone my lightsaber. Instead, I gripped my tea mug tightly and ran through a whole series of calming exercises, which were only marginally effective and could not stop my mind from racing through possibilities.

Anakin. Here on that ship, orbiting Tatooine. _Tatooine!_

_No, not Anakin—_Vader. _Anakin is dead_.

Had he discovered me at last? Had he come to finish the job he hadn't been quite skilled enough to complete two decades ago? Or worse—and now I really begun to panic—had he somehow discovered Luke? Had the boy gone behind Owen's back, sent in an application to the Academy after all?

_STOP! _I ordered myself firmly and went through the calming exercises once more. Panicking was the worst thing I could do. The ship was in _orbit, _not on the planet, and Vader's presence was too distant to be coming from dirtside. He could be here for any number of reasons that had absolutely nothing to do with either me or the boy, but if I continued to radiate fear, he _would _find me. If I could sense him, surely he could sense me. If he were otherwise occupied, however, focused on whomever he had just killed or captured, then he could easily miss me--_if_ I stayed calm. I drew in the Force, wrapping it around me the same way I would my robe, letting it shroud me, conceal me, make me a small, unremarkable presence. It silenced my anxieties, and in the resulting stillness, I could still feel his presence, a dark stain in the living Force, but it was small and distant. Definitely no closer than orbit.

Moving slowly, as if even my the smallest physical movement would cause ripples in the Force that he would sense, I rose from the stoop, my bones crackling in protest. _I'm getting too old for this, _I thought wearily, then chastised myself for the thought. At fifty-six I should not be this old. When Qui-Gon was fifty-six he had been in the prime of his life. I should never have allowed grief and isolation to age me the way it had. Pushing the thought resolutely from my mind, I went inside and headed for a small room located behind my bedroom. In a house that was very purposefully furnished and equipped with only the most ancient and worn items, this was the one room where everything was modern and completely state-of-the-art. My communications room.

Most of the moisture farmers near Anchorhead assumed I lived out at the edge of the Dune Sea because I was a hermit, a crazy old sorcerer who longed for the days of old when he was young and skillful and could work his magic. Even Owen thought I stayed so far from civilization to atone for my past failures. In truth, he was partly right, but that was not the main reason I chose to isolate myself sandwiched between the Dune Sea and the Jundland Wastes. The main reason was because out here I could easily escape Imperial scrutiny. The Imperial presence, such as it was on Tatooine, was all concentrated in the larger cities. Bestine, Mos Eisley—places with spaceports mostly. Occasionally some bureaucrat would send a stormtrooper or two into Anchorhead just for the fun of terrorizing the locals. But rarely, if ever, did they venture out into the Wastes or the Dune Sea. Those areas were largely the realm of beings such as Tusken Raiders, Jawas, or even the Hutts. So when crazy old Ben Kenobi made his home among the likes of these, the humans wrote him off. Which is why no one noticed when about ten years after my arrival on Tatooine, I erected a huge communications array outside my home, complete with interstellar and holographic capabilities. From here I could monitor everything from politics on Coruscant—_Imperial Center, _I corrected myself with a grimace—to the latest holovid debut on Corellia. For a hermit, I was quite well informed.

Working quickly, I turned on the receivers and scanned all the frequencies ships in space would use to communicate with each other and with the planet below, hoping to ascertain what the two ships were about, but the airwaves were remarkably silent. Whatever that smaller ship was, the Imperials were not interested in communicating with her, only killing or capturing her, which they may well already have accomplished. Finding nothing helpful on the transmitter, I went back outside and brought the macrobinoculars to my eyes once more. The two ships were still there, but the shooting had definitely stopped, which meant, as I suspected, that the Imperials had either killed or captured their prey. In fact, the smaller speck did look like it was considerably closer to the big speck than it had previously. Caught in a tractor beam, I surmised. But why _here? _And more importantly, why Vader?What could be important enough in this system to attract _any _Imperial's attention, let alone the second in command of the entire Empire? Surely Darth Vader had better things to do then to chase after the kinds of criminals that frequented the hyperspace lanes around Tatooine.

Then a thought occurred to me. What if that was a slave ship? That would be enough to get Vader's attention.

Although the Empire officially supported slavery, even subjugated entire races like Wookiees and Mon Calamari to slavery, I knew that Vader loathed the practice, perhaps even more than he loathed the Jedi or even me. If that ship was smuggling slaves, maybe even human slaves, which _was _illegal in the Empire, then perhaps that was something that would interest Vader enough to bring him all the way out to Tatooine. It would be fitting, even, since slavery and Tatooine would be forever linked in his mind.

At least I hoped it was something that simple—and that much removed from Luke.

For most of the morning I alternated between watching the sky and listening for communications from the ship, neither of which proved very enlightening. At one point I did catch an outbound holo transmission—likely a report back to some commander elsewhere, or maybe even the Emperor himself—but it was heavily coded and I could determine neither the content nor the recipient. I recorded the transmission and saved it for later, hoping that with a little time my slicing skills would be up to the task of deciphering the code. That accomplished, I went back outside for another look through the macrobinoculars.

I had just stepped out of the doorway when light and warmth so suddenly flowed into me it almost took my breath away. It was as if I had been frozen in carbonite and was now being set free. The dark stain on the Force that had held me in its grip for most of the morning was gone. I looked up sharply and searched the sky with my macrobinoculars. The ships were gone. _He _was gone, and I could once again feel the twin suns beating down on my dark robe, already making me feel uncomfortably warm.

"Slaves," I mumbled to myself, my voice cracking slightly in the dry desert air. "He must have been hunting slavers." He had what he was after and wouldn't be back.

But I was not convinced; I could still feel that disturbance in the Force. It was no longer colored by Vader's presence, but something still was not right and I couldn't just leave it alone and hope that it was just something as innocuous as the arrest of slavers. If Vader had come here, I had to know why.

I went back inside to my communications bench and scanned through recordings I had made of all the channels. This time I did pick up something, two transmissions in fact. The first was a communication between the ship in orbit and the Imperial capital in Bestine township. It, too was coded, but not nearly as heavily as the previous message had been and I was able to decrypt enough of it to determine that the Imperials were sending a detachment down to the planet and that the local authorities were to give them free reign to conduct their business. The second was another outbound hyperspace transmission: a distress call, uncoded, ostensibly from the small ship that had been captured. According to the message, the ship was the _Tantive IV, _a consular ship from Alderaan, which had fallen under attack by pirates and was on the verge of being destroyed.

_Tantive IV? _Why did that name sound familiar?

Trying to remember where I'd heard of the ship before, I listened with great curiosity to the message again. It ended abruptly, as if the sender had been cut off suddenly. Leaning back, I stroked my beard thoughtfully. Obviously the distress call was a fake, probably sent by the Imperials to mask the fact that they had attacked a diplomatic ship. But what was an Alderaanian consular ship doing over Tatooine?

Then it hit me. Alderaan! The _Tantive IV _was Bail Organa's ship! The very vessel that had rescued Yoda and me after Order Sixty-Six. _Bail Organa's ship had been captured above Tatooine!_

But that made no sense. While it was true that it was a pretty direct route between Tatooine and Alderaan, a consular ship from a Core World wouldn't be so far out along the Outer Rim, particularly not Bail Organa's personal ship. Bail knew Luke and I were here and avoided Tatooine like Hutts avoid a bath. Then there was the other message, the one sent to Bestine. They were intensifying their ground presence, which meant that the _Tantive IV_ had been carrying something or someone vital and despite its capture, the Imperials were far from secure. Something was going on that was not only important enough to bring Bail within a light-year of Tatooine, but a big enough threat to the Empire to attract Darth Vader's attention as well, and I had to know what it was. Bail Organa and Darth Vader together in close proximity to Luke was a decidedly disturbing turn of events.

When I finally decided I would learn nothing more of value monitoring the Imperials' transmissions, I made sure my recorder was on so I could check for communications later, then started to get up with the intention of going into Mos Eisley to see what I could pick up from the local rumor mill. But as my gaze came upon the interstellar transmitter, I paused. Whatever was going on, it was something I should not keep to myself. Yoda would want to know about this, especially if it involved Bail Organa and Vader both. Still, I hesitated. When we had first exiled ourselves, me to Tatooine and him to Dagobah, Yoda and I had been very careful about never contacting each other. After a few years, however, it became vital for us to communicate so that we could plan together the best course of action for Luke and Leia's future. At first we'd been very furtive, using Qui-Gon's spirit to relay messages to each other, then grew more bold and both rented mailboxes with a text message service run out of Sullust. Eventually, as the Emperor wrote off Yoda for dead and Vader gave up looking for me, we were able to each set up a more direct communications system in our respective homes, although Yoda's was far more modest than mine as he was able to keep in touch with events through the Force better than I and really only needed his to speak directly to me. Now I routinely sent transmissions to him without concern—coded of course, and relayed through a dozen systems to make both the source and target locations very difficult to trace, but even that was practically unnecessary as no one ever even bothered to intercept the messages. But with a new Imperial presence on the planet, I couldn't be sure that they weren't doing a more thorough job of monitoring extra-planetary communications. Even if Vader had been here for some reason that was completely benign to my purposes, it wouldn't do to call attention to myself. After taking a moment to weigh the pros and cons, I decided to wait until I could learn more about the Imperials' reasons for being here. Then, when I could ascertain the safety of such a call, I could make a report to Yoda.

My course of action decided, I quickly washed up, dressed, then removed my lightsaber from the table by my bed and clipped it to my belt. Despite my desire to portray myself as a harmless old man, I never went anywhere without my lightsaber. It was one of the last things I had to connect me with my past, with my own heritage as a Jedi, and I refused to be unprepared. Besides, with the Jedi all but extinct, most people wouldn't recognize a lightsaber if they saw one, or if they did they would regard it as merely an old relic from a time long past. Just another indication that the sad, pathetic old hermit couldn't let go of the past.

Another such prop was something I kept behind my house under an old Bantha wool tarp: an old, decrepit-looking landspeeder. I used to use an eopie for travel as I vastly preferred live mounts to machines despite my proficiency with the latter, but at some point it just became too cumbersome to get around without a speeder. However, I wanted to maintain my appearance of a somewhat doddering and senseless hermit, so I made sure my speeder looked to be the most decaying piece of useless refuse on the planet. Covered in rust from front to rear and listing precariously to one side whenever I climbed into the driver's seat, my speeder was something even Jawas disdained. Most of the farmers were surprised every time I actually made it all the way into Anchorhead without breaking down . They would have been shocked to discover that not only could this speeder easily make the trip to Anchorhead, it quite frequently carried me all the way to Motesta, Arnthout, Mos Eisley, or even Bestine and back without so much as straining the repulsors. Like my communications array, my landspeeder was actually quite modern and well-built. A hot rod in a deceptively old and weathered package. It amused me to think of it as an analogy for myself. Well, maybe not completely—I wasn't likely to be doing any back flips like I could when I was in my twenties and thirties, but at least my mechanical skills hadn't suffered over the years.

The journey to Mos Eisley from my house was a long one. I briefly considered making the much shorter trip to Anchorhead, the small farming community near which Owen's moisture farm was located, but I decided there would be little I could learn from there. It was a small town, little more than a trading post for the nearby moisture farmers, and it had very little in the way of off-planet communications and no spaceport at all. If I had any hope of learning what the Imperials were doing here, I had to go to Mos Eisley, even if it meant taking the entire day to do so.

Mos Eisley, though a thriving metropolis by Tatooine standards, was really little more than one giant spaceport. Northeast of my home and about twice as far away as Anchorhead, it sat on the far edge of the Jundland Wastes in a wide valley and was the major port of entry for most of this part of the planet. It was populated by almost every species known in the galaxy and much of that population made their living through less than legal means. Pirates, smugglers, and gangsters abounded and the Hutts still controlled most of the city, if not the planet. Mos Eisley was living proof that the Emperor's "New Order" did not eradicate crime and depravity nor create the much-vaunted galactic-wide security the propaganda would have you believe. That was the city's one saving grace; still, there was no place in the galaxy I despised as much as I did Mos Eisley.

Then again, that was pretty much the Wookiee calling the bantha furry, wasn't it? As a Jedi Knight, or a former Jedi Knight anyway, I was every bit as much a criminal as the most despicable gangster. More so, actually, in the eyes of the Empire. This is why, despite my distaste for the city, Mos Eisley was a perfect place for me and I had had many occasions to visit there in the past, especially when I needed supplies or information that would not be in keeping with my life as a "hermit." In Anchorhead you could not use the refresher without everyone else knowing about it; in Mos Eisley you could kill a being in broad daylight without so much as a blink from passers by.

As I approached the spaceport city from the south, I kept alert for signs of an increased Imperial presence and was surprised to find that there seemed to be no more stormtroopers than usual. It seemed unlikely that they hadn't arrived yet; surely the travel time on a shuttle from orbit would be much smaller than the time it would take my speeder to traverse the Jundland Wastes. So then where were they? Were they simply keeping a low profile so as to not alarm the locals (unlikely since Mos Eisley locals were not easily alarmed) or had they simply gone elsewhere? That thought made me very uncomfortable, since "elsewhere" included Anchorhead and Owen's farm and I wanted the Imperials, especially stormtroopers, descendants of the clone troopers that carried out Order Sixty-Six, as far away from Luke Skywalker as possible.

As I pulled into town, I headed straight for Chalmun's Cantina, an absolutely wretched hovel of a place that was one of Mos Eisley's most popular taverns for the simple fact that it _was _a wretched hovel of a place. If there was contraband to be bought, information to be had, or "business" to be conducted, it could usually be found at Chalmun's. It was also a wonderful place to get killed; you could always count on someone getting into a brawl and as often as not, a patron or two ended up dead on the floor or slumped over a table before each night was over. On the upside, it was one of the few places not Hutt-owned—Chalmun was a Wookiee, a species renowned for their honor and integrity and with a long enough lifespan that most of them remembered the Jedi fondly—so at least the cantina itself was above board, even if most of its patrons were not.

I parked my ancient-looking speeder outside the cantina and slipped quietly into its dark interior. It was a slow afternoon for Chalmun's and I easily found an empty table at the edge of the room where I would not call attention to myself. Thought not a regular by any stretch of the imagination, I was familiar enough with this cantina and others like it to know how to blend into the background here. From my corner table I could watch the other patrons for hours—as long as I kept purchasing drinks, of course—and with the aid of the Force, listen in on many of their conversations. I was sure that if I sat long enough I would hear someone talking about the capture in orbit. If I was very fortunate, it might even be someone from whom I could buy further information.

A Twi'lek waitress came over and took my drink order. Though she looked familiar to me, if she recognized me from previous visits, she gave no indication. Not surprising; Chalmun's was no friendly corner pub. The Twi'lek returned in short order with my first drink and I leaned back in my seat and settled in for a long stay.

* * *

The suns had long since set when I finally exited the cantina and headed back to my speeder. As I had suspected, it had been a long, boring day, but I was satisfied that I had as much information as could be gleaned from non-official channels in Mos Eisley.

Apparently the Imperial ship I had seen was a Star Destroyer, which were huge warships sixteen hundred meters in length boasting more than one hundred weapons emplacements. This was not too surprising as Vader would likely have nothing less for his flagship. The _Tantive IV,_ on the other hand, was a Corellian corvette, a notoriously versatile ship often modified to serve purposes that ranged from troop carriers to passage liners. Corvettes were usually chosen for transport when there was a need for quick exits into hyperspace because they had navicomputers capable of very fast calculations for hyperspace jumps, which is probably why Bail Organa, an early critic of both the Clone Wars and Chancellor Palpatine himself, chose it for his personal travel in the last days of the crumbling Old Republic. Clearly this "consular ship" was up to something much more clandestine than a simple diplomatic mission. Unfortunately, I was not able to ascertain exactly _what _sort of clandestine purpose, but it was doubtless something to do with the rebellion. The good news was that this theory would not only explain Vader's personal interest in the ship, but also meant it likely had absolutely nothing to do with Luke, which was a huge relief to me. The bad news was that it meant Bail Organa had almost certainly been exposed as a rebel and I still had no idea what could bring either him specifically or the rebellion in general out to Tatooine. I even briefly wondered if he could have come here seeking me, but I discounted that fairly quickly. The very hope of the rebellion rested in Bail's and my separate charges and I could imagine no situation dire enough that he would risk bringing attention to either one of them, at least not without contacting Yoda first, and then I would have heard something. More likely Bail was not involved personally at all but had rather sent his ship on a mission of some sort and it had been waylaid along the Corellian Trade run completely unbeknownst to him.

I also learned that a stormtrooper detachment had indeed landed on the planet, but they had bypassed the city altogether and had landed somewhere west, toward Arnthout. They might have gone to Bestine to make contact with the Imperial garrison there, but my instincts told me that was not the case. The detachment was sent here to search for something. But what? A rebel sympathizer with whom the _Tantive IV _was supposed to make contact? An escapee from the ship itself? Either possibility was troubling and presented me with a dilemma: should I delve into this matter further to see if I could be of some assistance? I felt somewhat duty-bound to do so because of my allegiance to both the rebellion and Bail Organa and the fact that anyone important enough to have Darth Vader chasing after him or her was someone worth risking my life for. On the other hand, to do so would be to possibly risk exposure and threaten our plans for Luke—plans that were ultimately vital to the cause of the rebellion—or perhaps even bring unwanted attention to the boy himself.

I still had not reached a decision when I arrived home hours later. I fervently wanted to contact Yoda and discuss the matter with him, but I was still nervous about the increased Imperial presence. If they were searching for someone, they would also be monitoring both outbound and incoming communications and I could not afford that kind of scrutiny, neither for myself nor for Yoda. So instead I decided to sleep on the matter. I had to trust the living Force to guide me.

I still had a very bad feeling about this.


	2. II

**II**

_I am twenty-five again, Obi-Wan Kenobi fighting at my Master's side. We battle Darth Maul in the hanger, in the power station, down the corridor, which traps me meters away from them. It is the same, always the same. I am stuck and cannot run, I cannot reach them in time and my Master is slain. As I wait for the barrier to open, I transform into an old man, Ben Kenobi. I hear the breathing, I feel the cold..._

_This time, however, something is different. As I move forward to face my former apprentice in the dark, metallic hallway, I see a figure standing behind him, luminous and radiant: Qui-Gon._

_Suddenly, the cold presence is gone and I can feel only Qui-Gon's warmth. Darkness is only the absence of light; cold the absence of heat. In Qui-Gon's light and warmth, Vader's darkness and cold cannot stand._

"_Obi-Wan," my Master calls to me, even as I continue to battle my Padawan. "Let go."_

* * *

I awoke with a start, but for the first time in six nights, my heart was not pounding, I was not sweating, and most importantly, I was not cold. I did, however, feel profoundly sad.

"Qui-Gon," I said softly, "I still had so much to learn..."

Qui-Gon had died while I was still a Padawan; in fact, slaying his killer was the very trial that brought me my Knighthood. I had long ago made peace with that fact, but there were times when the weight of being a Knight without my former Master to counsel me was heavy. This burden was multiplied by the fact that immediately upon achieving Knighthood, I took on my own Padawan, a young prodigy—_Qui-Gon's prodigy—_named Anakin Skywalker. Anakin was nine, and unlike every other Jedi trainee, including myself, he was not raised in the Jedi Temple and he had no formal training in the ways of the Force. We didn't have a very good start, either. I had been deeply hurt by Qui-Gon's sudden interest in the boy, which seemed to come at my expense. When the Jedi Council refused to allow him to be trained, Qui-Gon immediately requested that Anakin become his Padawan, despite the fact that I already was his apprentice. The Council refused, of course, and then there was the Battle of Naboo and Qui-Gon's dying request that I train Anakin myself. So I did. Despite all the reservations I had and the Council had and most of all Master Yoda had, Anakin became my apprentice. Very quickly, however, I was won over. Despite his lack of formal training, he had the most unbelievable innate talent I'd ever seen in a life form.

Until his son.

I was won over by his character, as well. A thoughtful, courteous boy with a quick wit, Anakin knew how to make me laugh one minute then floor me the next with some astute observation. Eventually the boy who I had regarded almost as a rival, as my replacement in Qui-Gon's life, became my dearest friend, my cherished protégé, my brother.

But Anakin was full of fear and rage; he couldn't understand why a Jedi must be patient, why a Jedi could not always act even when he wanted to. Why the Jedi could not allow attachments, like the love he felt for his mother, whom he could not save. Like the illicit love he felt for his secret wife, whom he also could not save.

Then there were my own flaws, my own baggage that I carried into our relationship, baggage that blinded me to what was happening until it was too late. My desire to prove myself to Qui-Gon, even after his death, made me anxious to be perfect, to overlook flaws in our relationship. And my own past history, the mistakes of my own youth caused me to underemphasize Anakin's. When I was thirteen, a brand-new Padawan, I defied Qui-Gon and left the Jedi. A huge mistake, that, but eventually I had come around and had always been grateful to Qui-Gon for giving me a second chance. So with Anakin, I allowed the small defiances to slide. I'd come around, I'd learned that with experience comes a wisdom that I could not have hoped to possess at thirteen. Surely Anakin would come around, too.

And of course there was Palpatine. I could kick myself for allowing that vile, loathsome excuse for a man anywhere near such an impressionable boy, but he was the Supreme Chancellor, which granted him certain leeway with the Jedi. Besides, I had never sensed anything from him until it was too late. Even Master Windu and Master Yoda hadn't known until the very end.

Damn Palpatine! He stole everything from me: my friends, my home, the only family I'd ever known. He stole my Padawan, my dear friend, a boy I loved first like a son and then as a brother. Palpatine's words to Anakin rang in my ears, words that had seemed so benign at the time but now made me cringe in rage: _We'll be watching your career with great interest. _Indeed. Not only watching; whispering in Anakin's ear, finding with great precision the exact buttons to push to quietly hone Anakin's rage. _The Jedi refused to save your mother. Obi-Wan cannot be trusted—he never wanted you anyway. Because of the Jedi, you will lose Padmé. _

And so with Palpatine's prodding, the person I loved most in the universe, save Qui-Gon, became my greatest enemy and the destroyer of the entire Jedi Order.

_No, that's not Anakin. Vader did that, not Anakin. Anakin is dead and Vader killed him._

It was a litany I repeated to myself a thousand times a day. _Anakin is dead; Vader killed him. He is not the boy I loved, he is a twisted and evil thing, unrecognizable to all who loved him_. Anakin died on Mustafar, his soul and body both consumed in volcanic flame. _I hate you! _had been his final words to me, words that could never have come from the same man who in our final parting on Coruscant had told me how much my friendship meant to him. The man who had been my partner, my other half. _Kenobi and Skywalker. Skywalker and Kenobi. _Anakin died on Mustafar and there I'd given him his eulogy. _You were the Chosen One! You were my brother! I loved you!_

But really, he'd died even before then, on Coruscant. He'd died along with Mace Windu. Along with the padawans and younglings Vader slaughtered. Anakin was Vader's victim as much as any other Jedi. I had to believe that just to keep myself from succumbing to the unbearable grief and guilt I still carried with me at his loss, even nearly two decades later. _I have failed you, Anakin. I have failed you. _And I had to believe it because it was what I would tell Luke when he asked me about his father.

We had made that decision long ago, Yoda and I, to tell Luke that his father was dead. It had been one of the most difficult decisions we'd had to make concerning Luke, and it came only after much debate and soul-searching. Even now I was not entirely comfortable with it, but it was simply too dangerous for him to know the full truth before he understood the Force. Growing up in the Jedi Temple I'd been taught that truth holds great power and that a Jedi must weigh the benefits of revelation or concealment for the greater good. While Luke deserved the truth, I could not deny the burden it would place upon him and the peril if he knew the truth before he was ready for that burden. Of course, Owen had been telling him lies about his father all along, but Owen's agenda was different from ours. Owen wanted Luke to stay here, to mind the farm, to stay out of the rebellion. Yoda and I knew that wasn't possible. We knew that Luke was our last hope, the only being strong enough in the Force to challenge Vader. The only being that would _matter _to Vader, other than Leia. But without full training, we feared he would be impatient to save his father, just as Anakin was to save his mother and his wife, and if we lost Luke we lost everything. Once he was trained, once he knew how to control his anger, his fear, his impatience, we would tell him everything. And maybe, just maybe, Luke would be able to do what I never could: bring Anakin back. For as much as I told myself again and again that Anakin was dead, a fierce hope burned deep with in me and refused to die. Hope that the young man I once loved as a brother was still in there somewhere and that his son could bring him back. If he fell because of love for his mother, could he not be saved because of love for his son?

Then there was the prophecy. Anakin was the Chosen One, the one to bring balance to the Force. He was the only person stronger than the Emperor; Palpatine himself had told Yoda as much during their final duel. _Lord Vader will be stronger than the both of us. _

_You were the Chosen One! _I had cried in anguish to him as our duel ended in ashes. _You were supposed to bring balance to the Force, not leave it in darkness! _Was it possible that these words could still be yet to pass?

Of course, I had to be realistic. _A prophecy that misread could have been, _Yoda was fond of reminding me. It could well be that Anakin was not the Chosen One at all, but rather his son, or even his daughter, although my years on Tatooine watching over Luke made me biased toward the boy. I had to be prepared for the fact that Anakin may truly be gone forever, and I had to prepare Luke for that fact as well. Perhaps Luke was the one who could bring balance. Vader had to be destroyed one way or another—and Palpatine with him, that was paramount—and if it couldn't be done by bringing Anakin back…

But how could I possibly prepare Luke for something I myself couldn't do? Yes, I had gone to Mustafar to battle and kill Anakin and had even defeated him, but I had begged him not to make that last attack. I had held the higher ground and the advantage and I knew how it would end if he attacked, and even though my mission had specifically been to kill him, I had wanted him to walk away, to not force me to make that final defense that destroyed him. And then when he was lying in the ash, maimed and on fire, I should have killed him. It would have been a kindness to do so, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I had truly believed he would never survive and I couldn't bring myself to make that final strike myself, to kill my brother.

Like Anakin, I had failed because I had loved.

But everything was different now and I believed, and Yoda to a lesser extent was beginning to agree, that perhaps it would be love that would save us. Or maybe it would destroy us. If Luke loved his father, that love would either be his greatest strength or his greatest failing. Whether or not to foster that love was our most crucial and difficult decision, but in the end I knew I had to teach Luke to love his father because, Force help me, I was incapable of ceasing to love him myself.

I sighed wearily and got out of bed and made my way to the kitchen for the inevitable pre-dawn cup of tea. While I waited for the water to boil, I thought about the dream. Why had it been different this time? Five nights the exact same dream, and now suddenly it is different? Less terrifying and much more peaceful, actually, which was ironic because the disturbance in the Force felt even more pressing this morning than it did yesterday. What message did the Force have for me? Why was Qui-Gon telling me to let go?

Then I remembered something he had once said to me when I was just a young boy, something about his own student lost to the dark side. _Xanatos is gone from me._ _He is just another enemy now. The hate is all on his side. I am prepared to fight the evil he does. He may kill me one day, but he will never wound me again. _ Qui-Gon came to accept the loss, to move past it and see Xanatos as he truly was. Why was it then that even after eighteen years I could not do the same for Anakin?

_Vader. Anakin is dead._

For the first time in years, I felt Qui-Gon's loss heavily. If only he had not died when he did. If only he had been the one to train Anakin, or at least if he had been there to guide me. Of course, it was an irrational thought; I had had Yoda to guide me and still it hadn't made a difference. Yoda, however, was not Qui-Gon. As much as I loved and admired the small Jedi Master, as much as I knew I wouldn't even have become Qui-Gon's Padawan if it hadn't been for him, he was not _my _Master. No one would ever replace Qui-Gon, not even the oldest and wisest Jedi on the Council.

Of course, in the years since Order Sixty-Six and the birth of the Empire, Qui-Gon had returned to me. In life he had studied with the Ancient Order of the Whills and in death had learned to be one with the Force while still retaining his own consciousness. Though a Master, I had become his Padawan once more, and even Master Yoda had as well and Master Qui-Gon taught us what he had learned from the Order of the Whills. He taught us more, even. Qui-Gon could only come to me as a voice. With his teaching, Yoda and I believed we would even be able to retain in some measure our physical selves. Ironic that Anakin had turned to the dark side in the hopes that Palpatine could teach him immortality when it was Qui-Gon who had the knowledge all along. _The ultimate goal of the Sith, yet they can never achieve it, _Qui-Gon often reminded me. _It comes only by the release of self, not the exaltation of self. It comes through compassion, not greed. Love is the answer to the darkness._

_Love is the answer to the darkness. _Anakin's love destroyed, but that was the old Jedi way. In the New Jedi Order, love would conquer all. My love for Luke, Luke's love for his father, and Anakin's love for his son. I had to believe that.

But Qui-Gon had not come to me in a long while. It had been months, in fact, since I had last heard from him and now I was cut off even from Yoda for fear that I would expose him or myself to the Imperials if I tried to contact him. Perhaps that was why I was suddenly missing my former Master. Perhaps his recent absence is what made me continually relive the anguish of watching him die, leaving me with so much left to learn?

_Luke will face that anguish, too. He will be left alone, his training incomplete._

The thought hit me like a Star Destroyer ramming a freighter. If my dream were to be interpreted as a vision of the future, then apparently he would be made to watch my death, as helpless to stop it as I had been to stop Qui-Gon's. Odd how this idea chilled my heart far more than the mere fact of my own death. I could not do this to him, not knowing how it felt. And I had been fully trained, if not yet fully ascended to the rank of Knight. Luke had no training at all; I doubted he even knew what the Force was let alone how to tap into it. I simply could not allow this to happen, not until he was ready for Yoda.

_Obi-Wan. Let go._

Let go of _Luke? _Is that what my dream meant? How could I possibly let go of the person who had been the focus of my life for eighteen years? How could I let go of all our hopes and plans? No. I had lost Anakin; I would not lose Luke as well.

_Obi-Wan. Let go._

I gave up my life for him, to make sure he was well cared for, to watch over him and protect him. I was willing to die for him or even for the rebellion. Was it so much to ask that I live long enough to see it through? To see him trained as a Jedi? To see him bring back his father?

_Obi-Wan. Let go._

The tea kettle whistled suddenly, signaling that the water was boiling, but I no longer wanted any tea. I flew up from the table and grabbed the battered kettle off the stove and slammed it onto the stone counter, splashing water onto my hand and burning myself in the process. Furiously I sucked on the angry red blister developing on the back of my hand.

Damn the Force and its destiny and visions! Damn Yoda for not pushing harder to prevent Anakin from being trained! Damn Anakin for choosing the dark path! Damn Qui-Gon for dying and leaving me a Padawan I was not prepared to train!

I collapsed back into my chair and buried my face in my hands. _Damn you, Qui-Gon, why did you have to leave me alone until it was too late? Why did I have to train the boy? I failed you, I failed him, I failed us all. Must I fail Luke as well? Must I leave him like you left me?_

There was no answer. Qui-Gon, even remaining in the Force, was still dead. But I remained. And Luke. Luke was alive and he needed me. I could go to him right now, ignore Owen's protests and take him off this Force-forsaken planet, take him to Dagobah and begin his training right now, _today._

I looked up from my hands and ran them over my weathered face and through my course gray hair. This was getting me nowhere. Anger: my hallmark weakness, the thing that had almost prevented me from becoming a Jedi at all. I was more than fifty years old and still I allowed anger to get the best of me. Qui-Gon would not be pleased. I took a deep breath; _acknowledge the anger, then let it evaporate_. No, I would not retrieve Luke today. It wasn't yet time, I could sense that much from the disturbance in the Force. Luke would begin his training soon, very soon, but not today. And if the Force required that I die before I see the training completed...

I shook my head, willing the thought away. Not now. There were other tasks that needed my attention. The suns were rising and the Imperial detachment had been on the planet for almost a full day and I still did not know why they were here. I would focus on that, determine if I could do anything to thwart whatever their purpose for being here was. Whatever destiny I faced, whatever destiny Luke faced, whatever choices we had to make, we would make them when they were before us. Not today.

**

* * *

**

I spent the entire day at my communications console, monitoring transmissions and trying to decode them. I had no luck even beginning to determine the content or recipient of the first holo message from yesterday, so I put it aside and worked on the planetary transmissions.

The Imperial detachment had been easy to trace because they sent hourly reports to the Imperial capital in Bestine township. I was able to trace those reports effortlessly and thus track their movements. As I had supposed, they hadn't gone to Arnthout or even to Bestine, but rather had landed well west of the cities, beyond the northern Jundland Wastes and into the Dune Sea. They were definitely searching for something; their reports generally were messages such as "target not located," or "Sector clear, Zeta unit moving on." Because they were searching the area roughly below the place in orbit where the _Tantive IV _was captured, I surmised that someone had escaped. But if they were searching the Dune Sea, they might never find what they were looking for. A vast and featureless expanse of yellow sand, the Dune Sea could easily swallow something as small as an ejection pod or a single-being ship. Also, if someone had landed in the Dune Sea in an ejection pod, it was likely they would not have survived the day. Tatooine's two suns were unforgiving and there was no water to be had anywhere for hundreds of kilometers. Apparently the Imperials were of the same mind; their slow and methodical search seemed to me to be more search-and-recover than search-and-capture.

Early in the afternoon, the detachment sent a report that was not at the regularly scheduled time. Unlike the others, this one was coded so I only caught bits and pieces of what was being said, but the alarmed tones from the trooper sending the report and the few words I did catch lifted my spirits. Words such as "two of them" and "tracks" stood out at me and seemed to indicate that they had found an escape pod but that there were two survivors who had not been found. Meanwhile, Bestine fairly exploded into action. A two-way holo connection was established with someone out of system and was heavily coded. The call was short and immediately afterwards the post made a wide-spectrum announcement that three Imperial Star Destroyers were being called in and stationed in orbit over Tatooine. The first would arrive from Bothawui later this evening while the other two could be expected some time tomorrow. In addition to the orbital presence, every city in this hemisphere that contained even a single spaceport, particularly Mos Eisley, would be sent an entire company of stormtroopers who would be monitoring all movement into and out of the cities. Suddenly what had started as a simple recovery mission had turned into a full-blown being-hunt.

My eyes widened and I leaned back in my chair. _Three _Star Destroyers! What in the name of the Force could require the presence of not one but three Star Destroyers over Tatooine! The lockdown of the cities indicated that not only did they think their two fugitives had survived but that it was likely they would make it to Mos Eisley or one of the other space ports to try and find transport off planet. But the question remained: who or what were these beings that they required three Star Destroyers to prevent them from leaving the system? Even in my heyday when I was considered one of the Empire's most wanted lifeforms I had never warranted this kind of attention. Who were these refugees and why was the Empire so concerned about them?

For a while I debated whether I should head out into the Dune Sea to see if I could find them myself and maybe offer them shelter or help them get off planet. Then I had another thought: perhaps Momaw Nadon was involved. Momaw, an Ithorian who like myself lived out in the Jundland Wastes away from the cities, worked underground for the Rebel Alliance. Could the _Tantive IV _have come here because of him? Perhaps it was worth a visit? But as I weighed the options, it hardly seemed worth the risks I would take in exposing myself or even Momaw to the Imperials. If he was involved, he would be in a better position than I to assist the fugitives. If he were not involved, I would have done nothing but waste a trip and still be in no better position to help.

What I really wanted to do was contact Yoda. If I could just reach him or maybe even someone connected with the rebellion, perhaps I could find out exactly what the _Tantive IV _had been carrying. Clearly anything that justified the presence of such a strong Imperial force deserved any help I could give. But it was still too dangerous for me to send a message off planet—more dangerous, in fact. I was itching to act, to do something to help whatever cause could so threaten the Empire, but what could I do with so little information?

_A Jedi must have patience, _I reminded myself. If it was important for me to be of service in this matter, an opportunity would present itself. In the meantime all I could do was listen and wait, work on decoding some of those messages, and see if I could find out anything useful.

And so for a time, anyway, with this situation to focus on, I was able to put aside my dream and thoughts about my destiny. Meanwhile, the disturbance in the Force grew slowly and steadily stronger.


	3. III

**III**

_I am twenty-five again, but I am not in battle. I am not on Naboo at all; I am standing in the kitchen of a small house on Tatooine. An old man's kitchen—_my _kitchen. I am only twenty-five, but with all the memories and experiences of the elderly man I will become. I am Obi-Wan Kenobi and I am Ben Kenobi. _

_I am standing at a counter looking at the battered old teakettle that I had thrown there the day before, when I sense that I am not a lone. A presence fills me, warm and comforting like a scent that brings back cherished childhood memories._

"_Obi-Wan."_

_My eyes fill with tears at the sound of his warm, rich voice and at the sound of my name, a name I had abandoned, a name I no longer deserved. I turn around to see Qui-Gon Jinn sitting at my kitchen table. Not just a disembodied voice through the Force or in my head, but his actual physical presence! He is radiant, bathed in a glowing blue aura, but otherwise looks perfectly natural sitting at my table._

"_Master," I whisper softly and fall into the chair opposite him, a thousand emotions playing through my heart. Though we have spoken a thousand times during my isolation in the desert, seeing him again, the way he raises his eyebrow to make a point or smirks when he knows I understand, it is so powerful I am overwhelmed._

_Qui-Gon shakes his head and smiles. "Not Master, Obi-Wan; you are a Padawan no longer. We are equals."_

"_Then my training in the Order of the Whills is complete?"_

"_Your training, yes," Qui-Gon replies simply. I close my eyes and bow my head in gratitude. "But there is one more thing you need," he adds softly. "Obi-Wan, you have to let go."_

_My eyes fly open. "Let go of what?"_

"_Of everything, my friend. You have to let go of Anakin."_

_I shake my head vehemently and cast my eyes downward once more. "I cannot. I failed him. I failed _you."

"_You're wrong, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon replied, his voice soothing. "You did not fail me. Anakin failed both of us."_

_I snap my head up and look him in the eye. "Because I couldn't train him!" I say fiercely._

_Qui-Gon only smiles sadly. "Do you think I could have done any better?"_

"_Yes, Master! You believed in him from the start."_

_Qui-Gon shakes his head again. "You forget Xanatos. I believed in him, too."_

_I sigh and close my eyes._

"_I refused to see the direction Xanatos was heading, the path he was on, even though I had been warned," he continues. "It was the same with Anakin. The Council knew he was dangerous. Yoda knew. Even you, Obi-Wan; you were right to be concerned. It was I who was wrong." His voice is quiet with sadness. "No, my friend, I could not have prevented him from choosing the dark path any better than you did."_

"If only I'd have paid more attention," I object softly, my heart aching. "If only I would have seen Palpatine for what he was…"

"_Obi-Wan, _let go. _He chose his own path; you could not choose it for him. And there is more." He pauses, his eyes boring into me. "You have to let go of Luke."_

"_Let go of Luke!" I protest. "But I have not yet _begun _with Luke! He has so much to learn!"_

"_And learn he shall," Qui-Gon says softly, "but you must let the Force guide his learning. You cannot control it any more than you could control Anakin's learning."_

_I shudder. "That's what I'm afraid of."_

_Qui-Gon leans forward in his chair, his face somber. "No, Obi-Wan, you do not understand. It is the attempt to control that which we cannot that brings fear, and anger. The true power in the Force comes only when we let go. Anakin fell because he could not let go of his mother and because he could not let go of Padmé."_

"_Then I should give up? Throw up my hands and say 'It is the will of the Force that Anakin fell, nothing can be done'?" I ask in frustration._

"_Of course not. Do not mistake persistence with control," Qui-Gon replies evenly. "You know this already. Why did you not go into the Dune Sea to help whomever the Imperials are pursuing?"_

_Knowing he is not really seeking an answer, I simply nod, conceding his point._

"_You have done a good thing bringing Luke here, Obi-Wan. You have seen him raised well by people who love him. You have seen to it that he learned right from wrong and you have kept him safe. And now you will begin to teach him the ways of the Force. By doing all this, you are proving your steadfastness, that you will not sit by and do nothing while evil reigns. But you can only do what you can do. You cannot change Anakin's past and you cannot determine Luke's future. Do what you can, my friend, but let go of what you cannot do."_

_I nod again, contemplating his words for a moment. At length, I return his penetrating gaze and ask "What of my dreams? Am I to die before I see Luke trained?"_

"_That is not for me to know. 'Always in motion..."_

"'_...the future is,'" I finish along with him, quoting the oft repeated words of Master Yoda. Qui-Gon chuckles and I laugh quietly along with him, enjoying this one last moment of camaraderie with my former Master._

_Inevitably the moment passes and Qui-Gon's face turns solemn once more. "Death is another thing we cannot control. But the key is in accepting that. If it is time, Obi-Wan, let go of your life. That is the final secret of the Order of the Whills. If you can do that, then no one can defeat you. Not the Emperor, not Anakin, not the dark side. If you cling to life past its time, you can only lose it, but if you let go, surrender your will to that of the Force, then you _will _live on. That is the true power of the light side and that is why the Emperor is destined to fail."_

_Once more I nod thoughtfully at his words. We have discussed it many times during my training over the last eighteen years, but somehow seeing his face, having him physically present as he hadn't been since his death, brings me a sense of peace that his instruction alone never could._

_Perhaps sensing my thoughts, Qui-Gon leans forward again. "It will not be easy," he begins. "I know you do not want to leave Luke behind." He pauses and reaches his hands across the table. For a moment I think he is going to take my hands in his, but I don't think that in his present state he is able to physically touch me. Nevertheless, the movement is comforting. "The hardest thing I ever had to do was leave you, Obi-Wan."_

_I swallow, feeling the tears in my eyes once more._

"_Do you remember Queen Veda of Gala?" he asks suddenly. I frown, perplexed by the sudden change of topic, but after a moment I am able to remember the Queen. The ruler of the planet Gala, Queen Veda had decided near the end of her reign that she wanted her planet to become a democracy. Qui-Gon and I were sent to monitor the first election on Gala. It was our very first official mission as Master and Padawan._

"_Do you remember that she spoke to us of her legacy? That she wanted a democratic government on Gala as her legacy to her people?" he continues._

_Although our mission to Gala had been over four decades ago, I remember this conversation well. The Queen's words about legacy had resonated with me, even though I was only thirteen. What could be the legacy of one who leads the life of a Jedi? Of one who gives up all attachments to family and heritage to serve as a Knight? "I remember," I tell Qui-Gon._

"_Queen Veda helped me see what my own legacy was," he tells me softly. "Obi-Wan, _you _are my legacy. You are my greatest pride and honor."_

_I am deeply moved by his words, but they also bring with them a great sense of sorrow as I realize what my own legacy is. "And Anakin is my legacy," I say darkly._

_Qui-Gon only smiles. "No, Obi-Wan. Anakin is not your legacy any more than Xanatos is mine. _ Luke_ is your legacy."_

* * *

For the first time in a week, I was sorry to awaken from my dream. My face was wet with tears and I reached out as if I could grasp Qui-Gon's fading image, but with his admonishment to let go still ringing in my ears, I released the dream and allowed myself to come fully alert, to focus on the living Force.

The Force flowed into me, electric. The disturbance I had been sensing for a week now was stronger than ever, yet paradoxically I felt at peace. More at peace than I had felt in a very long time. Whatever path I was to take, whatever path was before Luke, the Force would guide us. That was enough.

I wiped my face with my hand and got out of bed slowly. Unlike the past several days, I had not been awakened pre-dawn; the suns were already hovering above the horizon and warm light filled my room. I felt rested, the weariness of the past few days gone. Only the energy of the Force remained, that and Qui-Gon's parting words to me: _Luke is your legacy. _

_Luke!_

The Force suddenly ripped through me like a dust storm through Beggar's Canyon, and instantly I was immersed in another vision:

Tusken Raiders are gathered around a landspeeder, rummaging through its contents. Nearby, sprawled on the rocky ground in the shadow of a canyon wall, lies Luke, unconscious or...

The vision ended abruptly and I was back in my bedroom. _Luke! _my mind cried out and I sprang towards my dresser, my bones shrieking in protest. Dreams be damned, I was _not _twenty-five. I forced myself to slow down—the vision was the future, not something happening now. I was not going to do Luke any good by rushing around like a damn fool. Slowly and methodically I pulled out a clean tunic and pants and began dressing as I replayed the vision in my mind, allowing the Force to guide me. Obviously he would be attacked by Sand People, and judging from the rocky landscape it would happen somewhere in the Jundland Wastes. But what in the name of the Force would Luke be doing traveling alone in the Jundland Wastes? Like any other boy his age, Luke could be brash and reckless, but surely he had more sense than to go riding about in the Tusken Raiders' territory by himself. I shook my head, dispelling the paternal line of thinking; it wasn't going to help me find him. And finding him could prove to be difficult: the Jundland Wastes were almost as expansive at the Dune Sea and stretched for hundreds of kilometers in a rough semicircle around Anchorhead and Luke's home. He could have gone in almost any direction. Searching for him could prove to be as arduous a task as searching for the fugitives from the _Tantive IV _would have been.

This time was different, however. This was Luke and I had a bond to him, a bond through the Force. The vision itself was proof of that. The Force would guide me to him, I had to trust in that.

I finished dressing and reached for my lightsaber. With its reassuring weight hanging from my belt, I pulled on my worn brown cloak and headed out back towards my landspeeder. Once behind the drivers' console, I reached out with the Force. Which way?

_East, _came the reply, a feeling more than an actual word, and I started up the repulsors and directed the speeder east.

I had gone a surprisingly short distance, not more than fifty kilometers or so, when my instincts told me to stop. Finding a dark alcove where I could conceal my landspeeder from the Sand People, I left it behind, pulling the hood of my cloak up to conceal my face. _East, _the Force whispered, so I continued on foot eastward, over a tall, rocky outcropping.

Even before I reached the crest of the rise, I could sense the Sand People's presence. Though sentients, the Tusken Raiders were primitive nomads who operated under the most basic of desires: food, shelter, procreation, and an overwhelming sense of territorialism. Their emotions, strong and unchecked, radiated through the Force with the clarity of a homing beacon. A group of them was gathered in the canyon just below me, their joy of the hunt and their satisfaction at having conquered their prey coloring the Force deeply. For a moment my heart squeezed in my chest—_satisfaction at having conquered their prey—_but I resolutely continued onward. Luke was alive, I could sense it.

Just below the top of the rise, I stopped and took a deep breath. Placing my hands around my mouth, I bellowed out a piercing wail. It reverberated around the canyon walls as I topped the hill and came around a large boulder and entered the canyon.

Before me I could see the scene exactly as it had been in my vision, only instead of rummaging through the landspeeder, the Sand People were scattering, startled by my fierce screech: the call of the kyat dragon. As they ran away, I quickly headed into the rocky crevasse and over to the spot where Luke lay sprawled behind a small boulder. Kneeling beside him, I checked his wrist for a pulse—good and strong—then put my hand to his forehead, my fingertips on one temple and my thumb on the other, and allowed the Force to flow through me to heal the boy's concussion. While I was thus occupied, I heard a soft, metallic whistle that sounded curiously like a sigh.

I looked up to my right where I saw a shallow cave etched into the canyon wall. Concealed in the shadows of the cave was a small, domed droid, an R2 unit, if I was not mistaken. I had a sudden pang of nostalgia as I realized it very closely resembled Anakin's old astromech, R2-D2. I pulled back my hood, smiled, and nodded at it.

"Hello there."

The droid beeped suspiciously at me.

"Come here my little friend," I said kindly, remembering how Anakin used to treat droids like living pets. I motioned the droid forward with my hands, "don't be afraid."

It beeped again questioningly. Damned if it wasn't exactly like Anakin's little R2! I decided it must be Luke's droid and was trying to ascertain whether I was helping or harming its master. "Oh don't worry, he'll be all right," I told it, indicating Luke with a wave of my hand. Then to prove my point, I shook his shoulder gently and the boy gradually opened his eyes. He blinked, dazed, and I helped him to slowly sit up.

"Rest easy, son, you've had a busy day. You're fortunate to be all in one piece."

At the sound of my voice, Luke's eyes cleared and he looked at me with surprise. "Ben? Ben Kenobi?" he cried. "Boy am I glad to see you!"

"The Jundland Wastes are not to be traveled lightly," I scolded him, my paternal instincts returning once more. I stood up and then offered him my hand and helped him to his feet as well. As I helped him, limping, over to a boulder to sit down, I asked, "Tell me, young Luke, what brings you out this far?"

Luke sat down heavily, then motioned toward the R2 unit, which had already made its way out from its hiding place in the cave and was rolling quietly towards us. "This little droid."

The droid twirped in response and I looked at it, frowning. The resemblance to R2-D2 was starting to feel a bit eerie.

"I think he's searching for his former master," Luke continued, "but I've never seen such devotion in a droid before." The droid whistled, sounding almost proud of the compliment. "He claims to be the property of an 'Obi-Wan Kenobi.'"

At the mention of that name, I froze, stunned. As far as I knew, no one on this planet outside of myself, Owen, and Beru remembered that name. Certainly they had never told it to Luke.

"Is he a relative of yours?" Luke was asking hopefully. "Do you know what he's talking about?"

I sat down heavily on the boulder beside Luke. "_Obi-Wan_ Kenobi," I whispered in wonderment. _R2-D2 would have known that name_, I couldn't help but think, and resisted taking a longer look at the droid. Could it possibly be? "Obi-Wan... Now that's a name I've not heard in a long time." I nodded thoughtfully. "A long time." Not by anyone living, anyway. I had given it up long ago; even Yoda did not call me Obi-Wan anymore. It was a name from another time, a name I would not reclaim until I had begun what I came here to do: train my last Padawan.

Luke regarded me thoughtfully, obviously noting my surprise. "I think my uncle knows him. He said he was dead."

"Oh, he's not dead," I replied, though it didn't surprise me in the least that Owen would tell him that. "Not yet," I finish, rolling my eyes skyward.

"Do you know him?"

"Well of course I know him," I chuckled. "He's me!" I patted my chest for emphasis.

At this revelation, the astromech droid twittered excitedly, but I continued on, lost in my own reverie. "I haven't gone by the name Obi-Wan since, oh, since before you were born," I told Luke wistfully.

"Well then, the droid does belong to you," he said matter-of-factly.

I frowned. "I don't seem to remember ever owning a droid." _But Anakin did._ "Very interesting," I finished mostly to myself.

At that moment a harsh grunt echoed through the canyon. The Tusken Raiders were returning. Rising, I told Luke "I think we'd better get indoors. The Sand People are easily startled, but they'll soon be back. And in greater numbers." He rose also and we turned and headed towards his landspeeder.

The R2 unit whistled a sharp protest and Luke suddenly cried out "Threepio!" then headed off in the opposite direction. I turned to follow him, urging him to hurry. What could be so important—

I soon realized what he was after when I saw him bend down and pick up something gold and metallic. A severed droid's arm, it looked like. He took a few more steps around another boulder and found the rest of the droid, a protocol droid from the looks of it. He bent down to help the humanoid-looking droid into a sitting position while I came around the other side. At Luke's touch, the droid came alive, its visual scanners lighting up, and immediately I was reminded of the protocol droid Anakin had built and given to Padmé as a gift.

"Where am I?" the droid asked in a prissy metallic voice. "I must have taken a bad step."

And then I knew. Even after almost twenty years, I couldn't help but recognize that distinctive voice. This _was_ C-3PO, the protocol droid Anakin had built! My eyes widened in shock. Which meant the R2 unit didn't just resemble Anakin's astromech; it _was _Anakin's astromech. The two droids that had been left with Bail Organa on the _Tantive IV…_

My eyes widened in shock as the pieces began to fall into place. _Bloody Sith! _ Two fugitives escaped the ship and landed in the Dune Sea. Two fugitives who the Imperials feared would survive the treacherous journey across the sands and the Jundland Wastes and somehow make it to Mos Eisley to find transport off planet. They could survive because they were never alive in the first place. The Imperials were searching for _droids—these _droids. But what was so important about an innocuous pair of droids that would call for such a search and lockdown on the entire planet? And how in the galaxy could they have possibly ended up in _Luke's_ possession, of all people?

"Well, can you stand?" Luke was asking Threepio. "We've got to get out of here before the Sand People return."

"I don't think I can make it," the droid replied melodramatically. "You go on, Master Luke. There's no sense in you risking yourself on my account. I'm done for."

"No you're not, what kind of talk is that?" Luke sighed.

I rolled my eyes. It was _definitely _Threepio. "Quickly, they're on the move!" I snapped, although at this point I was starting to worry a lot more about stormtroopers than Tuskens. Together Luke and I helped the droid upright than headed over to Luke's speeder.

When the droids were safely stowed in the back, Luke and I climbed inside as well. "Go that way," I pointed, indicating the way I'd come. "My speeder is parked below that ridge."

Luke curled his lip in distaste. "No offense, but I've seen your speeder," he scoffed. "Maybe we should just leave it."

I chuckled softly. "Looks can be deceiving, young Luke. Just take me to my speeder and then you can follow me back to my house. It isn't far from here."

Luke gave me a dubious look, but he did as I instructed and soon we were safely home without encountering any more Tusken Raiders—or Imperials. I helped Luke bring the mangled Threepio inside and over to my workbench where he could try and repair him before taking it back to his uncle's farm.

"If I don't get these droids fixed and out on the south ridge, Uncle Owen is going to _kill _me," he complained as he worked. I, however, was in no hurry to see Luke go and I had to find out how he happened to come in possession of these two particular droids. Besides, rarely did Owen allow me contact with the boy at all, let alone enough time and privacy to really talk. I was not about to let this opportunity to begin a relationship with my young charge slide. So I sat down behind him at the workbench and asked him how he came to own these droids.

As Luke worked on Threepio, he told me that Owen had just purchased Artoo and Threepio yesterday from some Jawas. Yesterday. _After_ the capture of the _Tantive IV_ and the search for survivors. Could it possibly be merely coincidence that the Jawas would bring the droids to the Lars farm, or was the will of the Force at work? Luke went on to tell me how he had hoped that they would provide enough help around the farm to convince his uncle to allow him to enter the Imperial Academy. I merely smiled: neither Owen nor myself would ever allow that. But I used the opportunity to bring up a subject I had long wished to discuss with Luke: his father.

"Following in your father's footsteps, I see." _Just not all the way, _I added silently.

Luke frowned. "My father's footsteps?"

"Of course. He was a brilliant pilot, you know. We fought in the Clone Wars together."

"No, my father didn't fight in the wars," Luke corrected me. "He was a navigator on a spice freighter."

_Owen, _I thought with annoyance, stroking my beard. "That's what your uncle told you. He didn't hold with your father's ideals, thought he should've stayed here and not gotten involved." _The boy should have been left with his mother,_ he had told me many times. In hindsight, that might have been best, but Anakin had been a slave, after all. Hardly the life for a young boy, especially one with his talents. And, of course, it hadn't really been my decision anyway. Qui-Gon was the one who had found him and Qui-Gon was the one who had taken him away from his mother and off Tatooine. By the time he became my responsibility, Palpatine was already aware of him.

Luke looked at me, suddenly interested in what I had to say. "You fought in the Clone Wars?"

I smiled at the irony of the question. Fought in the Clone Wars? Blast, they were _invented _just to ensnare the Jedi. Perhaps even Anakin specifically. _Skywalker and Kenobi_, the names on the lips of every citizen of the Republic during the whole bloody thing. Fought in the Clone Wars? Oh yes, we fought in the Clone Wars. We lost our souls in the Clone Wars. And yet, it was just the in I needed. "Yes. I was once a Jedi Knight, the same as your father." I leaned back against the wall and turned away from Luke, as if lost in my own thoughts. In truth I did not want him to see how anxious I was for his response to this information. However, if the words _Jedi Knight _meant anything to Luke, he gave no indication of it. Instead he only sighed wistfully.

"I wish I had known him."

_I wish you had known Anakin, too, _I thought. Not Vader, not the monster he had become, but the _real _Anakin, the boy I'd trained, the young man I'd loved as a brother, regarded as my dearest friend since Qui-Gon. Yes, I wish Luke had known Anakin. And, for a just a moment, I allowed myself the hope that he might come to know him yet.

"He was the best star pilot in the galaxy," I remembered, wincing slightly and yet thinking with fondness of the nearly impossible task of following him as his wingman, "and a cunning warrior." I leaned in towards Luke. "I understand you've become quite a good pilot yourself." This was an understatement, actually. Luke and his friends were wont to race skyhoppers through Beggars Canyon and I often watched them. He flew a skyhopper like his father had flown a podracer, as if boy and machine were one, with the quick responses and instincts that could only come from the Force. I doubted Luke had any idea just how good he was; that he was better than his friends was obvious, but on a backwater planet like Tatooine that didn't necessarily mean anything.

Luke shrugged, embarrassed at the sudden compliment, but his broad smile revealed his pride.

"And he was a good friend," I continued, speaking again of his father. Then a thought occurred to me. I looked across the room to a small trunk I kept in the corner. Other than the lightsaber I carried with me wherever I went, that trunk contained everything that had been important to my past. Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Knight, his whole life packed into one tiny box. It also contained something for Luke, something he should have had years ago, but Owen had adamantly refused. Now might be my best opportunity to present it to Luke, to give him a piece of his heritage.

"Which reminds me," I went on, rising from my seat and crossing over to the trunk, "I have something here for you." I opened the trunk and began rifling through its contents until I found what I was looking for: a smooth cylinder of polished silver. Anakin's old lightsaber, the one that resembled my own. I fought back the tears that threatened at the thought of how he had once regarded me with enough hero-worship to fashion his lightsaber after mine. My fingers clasped the cool metal as images of Anakin proudly wielding his Jedi weapon flashed before me. I fought back the ones that tried to come of the last time I saw him use it on Mustafar.

"Your father wanted you to have this when you were old enough, but your uncle wouldn't allow it. He feared you might follow old Obi-Wan on some damn fool idealistic crusade like your father did." An outright lie, that bit about Anakin wanting Luke to have his lightsaber. He may well have wished that for his future son; it was even likely. However, he never had occasion to share such a thought with me. By the time I knew Padmé's child was his, the younglings were already dead and Anakin was awaiting his fate on Mustafar. However, the idea of Anakin wanting to pass on his lightsaber and his Jedi heritage to his son pleased me, so I allowed myself the lie, knowing in my heart it wasn't really a lie at all.

At that moment, Threepio interrupted, asking Luke permission to shut down. His voice shocked me into the past again, but Luke granted permission absently, his attention focused on the weapon in my hands. He stood up and met me halfway across the room.

"What is it?"

I showed him the device, turning it over slowly in my hands. "Your father's lightsaber. This is the weapon of a Jedi Knight." I presented him the lightsaber and he took it carefully from me, examining it curiously. "Not as clumsy or random as a blaster; an elegant weapon for a more civilized age."

I sat down on the bench as Luke found the power switch and the lightsaber hummed to life. I watched closely as he got the feel of the weapon, waving it back and forth carefully, intrigued by its movement, its sound, its feel. _He looks like Anakin did when he was very young, _I thought with a pang of remorse.

"For over a thousand generations the Jedi Knights were the guardians of peace and justice in the Old Republic," I explained, my focus shifting inward. "Before the dark times. Before the Empire," I finished darkly.

Luke turned off the lightsaber and sat down beside me. "How did my father die?"

I swallowed hard. This is the question I had been dreading, the question that haunted me. _Anakin is dead; Vader killed him, _I reminded myself, then taking a breath, steeled myself for the answer Yoda and I had decided upon. "A young Jedi named Darth Vader, who was a pupil of mine until he turned to evil, helped the Empire hunt down and destroy the Jedi Knights." I paused. _Please let this be the right thing. Let me be doing the right thing. _"He betrayed and murdered your father."

It was done. I watched Luke's reaction carefully: his eyes registered a flicker of surprise, then sadness and he cast them downward, absorbing this information. Once that sentence was out, the rest came easily—as easily as an explanation about the massacre of my friends and comrades and the poor younglings could come, anyway. "Now the Jedi are all but extinct. Vader was seduced by the dark side of the Force."

"The Force?"

I smiled wanly; the hard part was over, now it was time to begin Luke's very first lesson. "The Force is what gives a Jedi his power. It's an energy field created by all living things. It surrounds us, and penetrates us, it binds the galaxy together," I described, motioning with my hands.

Luke nodded thoughtfully, then Artoo interrupted with a long series of beeps and whistles. Suddenly I remembered that not only had it claimed to be my property and had been in the Jundland Wastes searching for me, but that it had very likely come from the _Tantive IV _and if so, was the subject of a massive Imperial search. I had gotten so lost in my reminiscing about Anakin and the Jedi that I had forgotten all about the droids. I got up and went over to it as Luke returned to his work on Threepio.

"Now, let's see if we can't figure out what you are, my little friend, and where you come from." I tapped it affectionately on the top of its dome, and immediately it began projecting a hologram recording onto my small end table. The image was of a young woman in a flowing white gown and hood. She was bending down—turning on the recorder, no doubt—and then she rose and I got a look at her face.

For the briefest of moments, my heart froze in my chest. _It's Padmé!_ But immediately I knew I was wrong. It wasn't Padmé at all, but someone who looked very much like her, someone with her noble bearing and quiet defiance. Not Padmé, but her daughter.

"I saw part of a message he was--"

"I seem to have found it," I cut Luke off, sitting down heavily. _Leia. A message from Leia?  
_

"General Kenobi," the recording began, "years ago you served my father in the Clone Wars. Now he begs you to help him in his struggle against the Empire. I regret that I am unable to present my father's request to you in person, but my ship has fallen under attack and I'm afraid my mission to bring you to Alderaan has failed."

My eyes widened in horror. Her ship under attack… _she_ was on the _Tantive IV!_ As the realization hit home, my heart nearly froze again. _The _Tantive IV, _captured by Vader!_

"I have placed information vital to the survival of the rebellion into the memory systems of this R2 unit," the recording continued. "My father will know how to retrieve it." I glanced at the droid in question as my suspicions were confirmed. These were, in fact, the fugitives for which the Imperials were searching and whatever information Leia had placed into Artoo was the reason why.

"You _must_ see this droid safely delivered to him on Alderaan." She paused. "This is our most desperate hour," she pleaded softly. "Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi, you're my only hope." She then looked over her shoulder, as if suddenly afraid she was being watched, then bent down to turn off the recording. The image flickered with static, then disappeared.

I leaned back against the wall, stroking my beard as I absorbed this message and all it meant. Leia, captured by Vader. I shuddered. If there was anything that could chill me as deeply as the thought of Vader discovering Luke, it was Vader discovering Leia. Would her resemblance to her mother be as obvious to him as it was to me? Would he be able to sense who she was? I gritted my teeth resolutely. She _must _be rescued; I would see to it personally. I would deliver the droids to Bail Organa on Alderaan and then volunteer for a rescue detail. We had to get her out of Vader's hands. But first there were more immediate matters to attend to. The _Tantive IV _had been over Tatooine searching for _me. _And of all the bizarre connections, the two droids she sent to retrieve me in her stead—_Anakin's _former droids—were captured by Jawas and bought by, of all people, Owen and _Luke_. Qui-Gon's words from my dream came back to me: _surrender your will to that of the Force. _Here I had been wondering both how I could approach Luke to begin his training and also how I could be of assistance in the matter of the _Tantive IV, _when all the while the Force had contrived to bring them all to me. In that instant, I knew that Luke was to begin his training right here and now. I looked over at him then; he was lost in his own musings about the message, no doubt stunned by its importance. _If you only knew..._

"You must learn the ways of the Force, if you are to come with me to Alderaan."

"Alderaan?" Luke replied in surprise. He stood up and walked toward the door, shaking his head. "I'm not going to Alderaan! I've gotta get home, it's late, I'm in for it as it is."

"I need your help, Luke. _She _needs your help. I'm getting too old for this sort of thing."

Luke paused, looking back at the table where the holo of Leia had been. He then looked at me, conflicted, his own yearning for a life beyond this planet warring with the farmer's duty instilled in him by his uncle. I raised my eyebrows at him questioningly, but it was Owen's voice that won out. "Listen, I can't get involved. I've got work to do! It's not that I like the Empire, I hate it, but there's nothing I can do about it right now." He sighed dejectedly and leaned against the doorjamb. "It's such a long way from here."

"That's your uncle talking," I pointed out.

Luke sighed again, then came back into the room and over to Artoo. "My uncle. How am I ever going to explain this?" He slapped the domed head of the little droid for emphasis and I cringed at the thought of how Anakin would react to seeing his treasured gift from Padmé treated in such a way.

"Learn about the Force, Luke."

He paused, conflicted again, but once more Owen's voice drowned out his own conscience. Shaking his head vehemently, he stomped back to the door, then paused once more as his eye caught his father's lightsaber in his own hand. He regarded it for a moment, then turned back to me. "Look, I can take you as far as Anchorhead. You can get a transport to Mos Eisley or wherever you're going."

I snorted. Obviously he still didn't think my own speeder was up to the trip and he saw this as a compromise. Although it would have been quicker for me to drive myself all the way into Mos Eisley rather than try to find public transportation from Anchorhead, the Force urged me to go with Luke. I could win him over yet. "You must do what you feel is right, of course," I conceded, though my tone clearly indicated to Luke I still had other plans for him.

While Luke set about getting the droids into his speeder, I quickly gathered the few things I would need to take with me: my cloak, my lightsaber, some money. I then joined Luke outside and climbed into the passenger seat of his speeder and we headed off, turning east towards Anchorhead. As we pulled away, I watched my house, my only home for almost two decades, disappear behind the rocky cliffs. Somehow I knew I would never see it again.

I settled back in my seat silently, my heart heavy. It wasn't just leaving behind my home of eighteen years, either. It was something else, something elusive. A disquieting sense of malfeasance that seemed to cloud the air around me. The sense of death.

"Ben?" Luke asked suddenly, breaking me out of my sullen reverie. "Who was that girl anyway? She never did say her name."

With an effort I dragged my focus back to Luke. I could tell he was fascinated by the girl—something I should probably discourage for so very many reasons— but he had just given me another opening to convince him to come with me. "Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan," I answered. "She is a member of the Imperial Senate and the daughter of Bail Organa, the viceroy of Alderaan."

"Hm," Luke said, his voice carefully neutral, but I could tell he was impressed by her credentials. I probably should have used this to prod him further, to talk him into coming with me to Alderaan, but the Force was pulling me away, demanding my attention elsewhere. Something was very, very wrong. With a sense of urgency I put my hand on Luke's arm.

"Luke, do not take me to Anchorhead. Go directly back to your house."

Luke nodded, puzzled by my odd tone. "You won't convince my uncle to let me go with you, if that's what you're thinking," he told me, but I didn't answer. It was not what I was thinking at all. I could think of nothing but the Force, urging me to hurry, to reach Luke's house before it was too late.

_Before _what's _too late?_

We hadn't gone another ten kilometers before I had my answer. The disturbance in the Force increased until it pounded at the back of my skull and the sharp scent of ozone and burning flesh invaded my senses, then suddenly I felt a sharp pop, as if one of the tethers that connected my life to others had suddenly snapped. I had so few tethers left in my life: Luke, Yoda, Vader, Owen.

_Owen._

I bit down hard on my tongue to prevent myself from crying out, so as not to frighten Luke. His uncle—Anakin's stepbrother—was dead. And Beru, sweet, lovely Beru.

I gripped the sides of my seat, hoping Luke wouldn't notice my distress. I did not want him to find out this way. Likely he would think it the ramblings of a demented old man anyway, knowing nothing of the Force as he did. How could I explain that I knew his aunt and uncle, the ones who raised him, the only family he knew, were dead? How would I explain how it happened? I knew that too, enough anyway, from the foul odors that assaulted me. Blasters and fire; probably shot first, then their entire homestead set afire. I had no doubt that it was because of the droids. The Imperials had tracked the droids back to Owen and now he and his wife were dead because of them. Because of a message meant for me. I wanted to slap my forehead at my own stupidity at not having realized sooner this would happen. I should have known, I should have gone there to save them.

_Owen, Beru..._

From the corner of my eye I could see Luke rub the back of his head. It could have been residual discomfort from the blow the Sand People gave him, but I didn't think so. _He senses it too, he just doesn't know what he's sensing. How in the name of the Force am I going to tell him?_

I hardly had time to think about it when something caught my eye slightly to the north of the direction we were headed. Just beyond the horizon, a wisp of black smoke curled lazily into the sky. It was too close to be Owen's farm, which meant something else was burning. That it was related to Owen and Beru's demise I had no doubt.

"Look over there," I motioned to Luke, my voice so even it surprised even me. "Smoke."

Luke followed my gaze. At first he didn't see anything, but he angled the speeder in the direction I indicated anyway. Then, as we topped a small rise, we saw the source of the smoke: a huge Jawa sandcrawler lay in the plain below, a twisted, charred wreck. As we got closer we could see the forms of Jawas, dozens of them, strewn about the wreckage like carelessly tossed garbage, disturbingly reminiscent of my last time in the Jedi Temple, with the bodies of padawans and younglings everywhere. Luke gasped.

Slowly we pulled up to the remains of the sandcrawler and got out to examine the carnage. The droids followed dutifully behind us. "Sand People?" Luke asked me softly.

"What do you think?" I replied carefully as I myself took in the scene, noting every detail. Perhaps I could ease into the news of his aunt and uncle by helping him see what had happened here.

"It looks like the Sand People did this all right," he responded, picking his way through the debris. "Look—there's Gaderffii sticks and Bantha tracks. It's just— I've never heard of them hitting anything this big before."

"They didn't, but we are meant to think they did. These tracks are side-by-side; Sand People always ride single file to hide their numbers," I told him pointedly.

"These are the same Jawas that sold us Artoo and Threepio," he commented, and I could see he was beginning to work out the pieces. I slapped him on the arm and directed his attention toward the sandcrawler.

"And these blast points, too accurate for Sand People. Only Imperial stormtroopers are so precise," I said with emphasis, trying not to think of the clone trooper I'd known as Cody and considered a comrade in arms, who had joked with me about droid kill counts and returned my lightsaber that he'd retrieved when I'd lost it in my final battle with the Separatist General Grievous, then moments later calmly shot my dragonmount from under me in placid obedience to Order Sixty-Six. I tried not to think of a thousand other troopers shooting down a thousand other Jedi on a thousand other planets. No deceit, no deception, no malice; they merely follow orders. One order is like any other to a trooper.

"But why would Imperial troops want to slaughter Jawas?" Then he looked over at the droids and the final piece clicked into place. Now perhaps I could explain about his family.

Luke, however, was quicker than I gave him credit. "If they tracked the droids here, they might have learned who they sold them to and that would lead them back... _home."_

Before I could stop him, Luke bolted away from me and headed back to his landspeeder at a dead run. "Wait Luke! It's too dangerous!" I called out after him, but he ignored me. For I moment I considered running after him, but I knew it would be a futile gesture, so instead I reached out to the Force, ahead of him, towards Owen's farm. Were the stormtroopers still there? Would they catch Luke if he went back? Not that I could do anything about it; Luke was already vaulting into his landspeeder and racing homeward. Still I reached into the Force. Maybe if there was still great danger I could find a way to stop him... But I was relieved to sense that the danger had passed. The stormtroopers had already moved on.

As soon as Luke's speeder was out of sight, I allowed my calm facade to crack. "Blast!" I screamed vehemently, startling the droids. Artoo beeped at me, sounding almost concerned and Threepio echoed that concern a moment later.

"May we be of some assistance, Sir?"

I sighed deeply, collecting myself again. It was eerie the way he addressed me, as a stranger and not a guest he had regularly served at the home of his mistress, Senator Amidala. Although I understood the wisdom of Bail ordering the droid's memory wiped, it was nevertheless disconcerting. "No, I'm all right," I reassured him, but I was anything but. Owen was dead, Beru was dead, Luke was going to have to see what remained, and all of it was because of a message carried by an innocuous little R2 unit. _Anakin's _R2 unit. A message meant for _me_. _Damn._

Why didn't I see it coming? Why didn't I get a vision, like I did with Luke? If I had only sensed it sooner, I could have arrived in time. I could have saved them. Even without a vision, I should have known. Any idiot could have deduced that the Imperials would eventually be able to track the fugitive droids to the Jawas and then to the farmers who purchased them, but I had been so wrapped up in talking with Luke, in reminiscing about the past, I'd forgotten the more urgent present, the living Force. Owen and Beru were dead and it was _my fault._

_You can only do what you can do. _Qui-Gon's voice, an echo from my dream.

Yes, surrender my will to that of the Force. It sounded so simple, seemed so simple this morning when the Force directed me to Luke. But why could it have not been so with Owen and Beru? Why would the Force direct me to save Luke, but not warn me in enough time to save the man and woman who raised him? _Damn._

Again I sighed deeply. I didn't even know how to mourn the death of Anakin's stepbrother. He disapproved of everything Anakin and I had believed in, everything I had done, every choice I made. But he was Luke's uncle and guardian, a tether to my life that had been cut. An _attachment, _even though I was supposed to have none. _Leave us alone!_ he used to complain regularly._ Anakin is gone and the Jedi are gone! You and your Jedi will be the death of me!_ Indeed.

But another voice in me protested: _No. The _Empire _is responsible for this, not the Jedi and not I. _I was no more responsible for their choices than I was for Anakin's. The _Empire_ killed Owen and Beru, and for absolutely no reason at all—they surely knew nothing about the droids or where they came from. The _Empire_ chased Leia here with these droids. They were to blame. I had chosen to fight. I had chosen to stand against Palpatine and his "New Order" and the Sith apprentice who once was my Padawan. Owen and Beru died because of that, but innocent people die every single day at the hands of the Emperor. If I did not stand and fight, if I do not teach Luke to stand and fight, then everyone dies because the light dies.

"Sir?" It was Padmé's protocol droid again, Anakin's creation, looking at me with his head cocked in such a way that he seemed worried. "Are you sure there's nothing—"

"Actually, there is something we can do," I cut him off. "These Jawas do not deserve to be consigned to the scavengers. We must start a fire and cremate their bodies. It is fitting."

If it were possible for a droid to wrinkle his face in disgust, I believe Threepio would have done so. But to his credit, he simply replied "Yes sir." He then motioned to Artoo and they began to search for fuel with which to start a fire. Before long we had enough scraps of cloth and oil from the sandcrawler to start a small bonfire and slowly and methodically we began the task of gathering up the bodies of the small Jawas and heaping them onto the funeral pyre. I raised my hood in reverence for the dead. I could not lay Owen and Beru to rest, but I could do this for the Jawas at least.

The droids and I were just finishing the gruesome task when Luke returned, driving at a much more sober pace than when he had left. He climbed out of his landspeeder and walked slowly towards me, his eyes cast downward. He stopped in front of me and did not look up, his shoulders slumped with a burden I knew all too well.

"There is nothing you could have done, Luke, had you been there," I said softly, trying to shut out the voices that whispered to me that _I _could have done something had _I _been there. "You'd have been killed too, and the droids would now be in the hands of the Empire."

Luke looked up at me then, his face etched with grief but his eyes resolute and determined. "I want to come with you to Alderaan. There's nothing for me here now. I want to learn the ways of the Force and become a Jedi like my father."

And so it was that Luke Skywalker became my second and final Padawan Learner, his uncle and aunt—Anakin's stepbrother and sister-in-law—sacrificed so that he could begin his journey. _You can only do what you can do._ I nodded solemnly and took him gently by the arm. Together we turned and I led him away.


	4. IV

**IV**

We drove straight through to Mos Eisley, bypassing Anchorhead altogether. I had half expected Luke to want to stop there to say goodbye to some of his friends, but going to Anchorhead would mean passing by his uncle's farm and it was clear Luke had no intention of going anywhere near there again. Instead we kept close to the cliffs of the Jundland Wastes, giving wide berth to both Luke's home and Anchorhead. We didn't stop until we reached the eastern edge of the Wastes, where we paused on a high cliff that overlooked Mos Eisley in the valley below.

"Mos Eisley spaceport," I said with disgust as we looked down upon the city. "You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. We must be cautious." I'm not sure whether I meant it more as a warning to him or a reminder to myself; though I hadn't checked the scanners today I knew the city would be thick with stormtroopers and they would be looking for Luke's droids.

When we finally made it to town, I was a little surprised to find that the stormtrooper presence was not that obvious at first. The southern outskirts of Mos Eisley had the usual assortment of life forms and droids bustling about the streets, but as we got more into the heart of town, where all of the spaceports were located, stormtroopers were stationed in pairs at regular intervals. Reflexively I pulled my hood up around my head.

"This doesn't look good," Luke whispered nervously. "We should have tried to hide the droids."

I reached over and patted his arm reassuringly. "Don't worry, just keep driving."

We did not get far before four troopers motioned for us to stop. Luke swallowed nervously, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the wheel. "Just answer their questions and let me do the rest of the talking," I whispered just before we stopped in front of them.

"How long have you had these droids?" the highest ranking among them asked Luke authoritatively.

"About three or four seasons," Luke replied nervously.

"They're up for sale if you want them," I cut in.

Ignoring me, the lead trooper ordered Luke, "Let me see your ID."

I could see Luke stiffen even more as he turned to me for guidance. If the troopers recognized his name and address on the ID...

I wasn't looking at him, however; my gaze was fixed on the stormtrooper. With a wave of my hand and a small _push _from the Force, I told him softly: "You don't need to see his identification."

"We don't need to see his identification," the trooper agreed as if it were self-evident.

"These aren't the droids you're looking for," I added.

"These aren't the droids we're looking for."

"He can go about his business."

"You can go about your business."

"Move along."

"Move along, move along." He waved us forward impatiently, as if he had much more pressing matters to attend to and did not want to waste any more time with the likes of us.

Luke didn't need to be told twice; he stepped down on the accelerator and pulled away quickly, his expression a mixture of bewilderment and relief. I then pointed him in the direction of Chalmun's Cantina, which was only a few blocks from where we were stopped. Luke pulled the speeder up to the dirty sandstone building, turned off the engines, then climbed out, waving away the inevitable Jawa who was already eyeing his vehicle greedily.

"I can't abide those Jawas," Threepio sniffed disdainfully over my shoulder. "Disgusting creatures!"

Ignoring the protocol droid's complaint, Luke turned to me. "I can't understand how we got by those troops. I thought we were dead!"

"The Force can have a strong influence on the weak-minded," I explained.

Luke nodded, then turned toward the dusty doorway of Chalmun's. "Do you really think we're gonna find a pilot _here _that'll take us to Alderaan?" he asked, his nose wrinkled in distaste.

I can't say that I disagreed with the boy's aversion to the cantina—or anything in Mos Eisley, for that matter—but I wished that he would stop making such snap judgments based on appearances. He would have to learn to look deeper, to see beyond the facade if he was going to become a Jedi. Yoda was going to have a field day with him. Now was not the time for a lecture, however. I simply nodded and told him "Most of the best freighter pilots are to be found here. Only watch your step," I warned, "this place can be a little rough." Big understatement, that.

"I'm ready for anything," Luke said cockily. I only grinned, then the two of us headed off into the cantina, the droids on our heels.

As we entered the dank tavern, I noticed immediately that it was considerably more crowded than it had been the day before yesterday when I had last been here. _The day before yesterday, _I thought to myself, slightly amazed. _It seems like a lifetime ago. _The dark room was packed from wall to wall with every kind of creature imaginable. In the corner, a jizz band made up of white-faced Bith was wailing out a catchy tune, the kind that would stick in your head for hours if you listened too long. Very few patrons were listening, however; most were caught up in their pressing business deals, tête-à-têtes, or posturing. Scanning the crowd quickly from the doorway, I decided to try the bar first and made my way over there, leaving Luke behind me, gaping wide-eyed at the vast array of sentient life that had gathered here.

As I neared the bar, I saw a muscular Wookiee towering over a human in a flight suit. For a moment I thought the Wookiee was Chalmun, the cantina's owner, but as I got closer I could see that this one was much younger and a little more fierce. Wookiees, however, were by and large a species for which I had great respect. Their honesty and integrity was galaxy-renowned, and as they were considered a slave race by the Empire, Wookiees were generally known to be deeply anti-Imperial. A Wookiee was someone I could likely trust, so I figured he would be a good place to start. I wondered if the spacer he was talking to, a short man who looked vaguely familiar to me, worked with him. The human noticed me heading towards him, so I smiled, but I caught a strange sense in the Force. _Wonderful, _I groaned inwardly, _a Force-sensitive Jedi wannabe._

With the Jedi nearly extinct and thanks to an extensive anti-Force propaganda campaign by the Empire, most people either knew nothing of the Force or thought it was just the foolish invention of a ridiculous band of sorcerers who deserved their fate. There were a few, however, who were intrigued by the old tales—most of them wildly inaccurate—and fancied themselves knowledgeable in the Jedi arts. If they were not Force-sensitive, they were completely harmless. But very rarely I would come across someone who could sense the Force, but whose knowledge was misdirected and ill-founded. Usually I avoided this type like I avoided Vader; the last thing I needed was for some padawan-wannabe to latch onto me when I was trying to avoid exposure. Therefore, when I sensed that this spacer was exactly that sort of person, I intended to head in the opposite direction, his connection to the Wookiee notwithstanding. However, something made me pause. Qui-Gon would love this sort of person, would have gone out of his way to give him a few kind words of redirection, in fact. With a small sigh, I continued on my path toward the spacer. _This one's for you, Qui-Gon._

As it turned out, the spacer _was _interested in the Force, but did not have a ship. However, he was not partnered with the Wookiee after all, and when the spacer sadly informed me he could not help me get off planet, the Wookiee grunted at him and he then told me that the Wookiee might be able to help me. He then excused himself, leaving me with the towering, brown-furred life form, who seemed rather keen on being of service to me. I suppose it could have just been the prospect of a good fare, but something told me otherwise. Besides being anti-Imperial, Wookiees tended to be very pro-Jedi. They were long-lived creatures and as this one was clearly an adult he had to be at least old enough to remember the Clone Wars. Yoda himself had led the last defense of Kashyyyk. He had been there, in fact, when Order Sixty-Six had been carried out and had been aided in his escape by the Wookiees. Never ones to forget those to whom they owe a debt, they tended to be one of the few races in the galaxy that still revered the Jedi and I had a feeling this one knew by my robes what I was. _Ah Qui-Gon, I should listen to you more often, _I said inwardly. _I get to have my ryshcate and eat it, too._

I stepped up to the tall creature, hoping my knowledge of his language wasn't too rusty to understand him. Fortunately, I could follow him well enough to get his name, which was Chewbacca, and to understand that he was the first mate on a ship called the _Millennium Falcon._ At that point we were interrupted by the bartender standing just behind me, who bellowed out "Hey! We don't serve their kind here."

I realized he was directing his objection towards Luke. When the boy seemed confused, the bartender explained, "Your droids, they'll have to wait outside, we don't want them here."

I had forgotten that this particular bar did not allow droids and wondered for a moment if there would be trouble, but Luke quickly directed Threepio and Artoo to wait outside and the commotion was over. I was a little uneasy with this; the stormtroopers were looking for _them, _after all, but decided that to make an issue of it would be to draw undue attention on ourselves. The two droids escaped the Dune Sea and evaded the stormtroopers for two days, they could handle a few more minutes on their own.

The situation thus handled, Luke stepped up to the bar behind me as I returned to my conversation with Chewbacca, who patiently explained that his captain was a human Corellian named Han Solo and that they might be interested in taking us to Alderaan—if the price was right. He was in the midst of trying to give me information about his ship when another commotion, also involving Luke, erupted behind me. An Aqualish and his human friend had decided that the green human moisture farmer was a good target for their intimidation, and judging by the way the crowd suddenly vacated the immediate area, they were likely to become hostile. In a place like this, hostile often meant deadly. Turning, I stepped in to diffuse the situation.

"This little one's not worth the effort," I said soothingly—and with a little push of the Force—to the human, whose face was so scarred he scarcely looked human at all. "Come, let me get you something."

These two, however, were too hostile to acquiesce so easily and were apparently resistant to the influence of the Force as well. With a furious bellow the human shoved Luke roughly aside and the boy flew into a nearby table, upending it.

Without hesitation, I reached into my belt and withdrew my lightsaber, igniting it in one fluid motion. Even as I did so, both the human and the Aqualish went for blasters. The bartender screamed "No blasters! No blasters!" then dove for cover under the bar as the rest of the patrons left a vacuum around us. Luke's two assailants fired at me, but I deflected their blasts with a simple twirl of my blade and then swung it in a smooth arc across them both, cutting through the Aqualish's arm and grazing the human's chest. Howling in agony, they backed away from me as quickly as they could and I brought my lightsaber up before me in guard position, then eyed the rest of the crowd warily, as if daring anyone else to challenge me. I glanced at Luke, still sprawled on the floor, slack-jawed, as his eyes went from me and my lightsaber to the Aqualish's severed arm still clutching its blaster. Behind me I heard Chewbacca softly growl his approval. If he hadn't guessed before I was a Jedi, he certainly had figured it out now. I continued to stand at attention until gradually all eyes turned away from me and back toward their own conversations. Having asserted myself to any other would-be challengers, I closed down my lightsaber. The Bith band began to play again and the disturbance was over. Just another brawl at Chalmun's Cantina.

I glanced back at Chewbacca and gave him a brief nod, then walked over to Luke and extended my hand to help him up, the Wookiee following me.

"I'm all right," Luke grunted as I helped him up.

"Chewbacca here is first mate on a ship that might suit us," I informed him as together we found a small booth in the corner which would afford us more privacy.

Once we were seated, Chewbacca went off to find his captain, then returned, grunting to me that he would be along shortly. A few moments later a lanky human approached the table. Tall and dark-haired with sharp dark eyes that seemed to take in everything, he walked with a confident gate and was wearing both a hip blaster and a smug expression. Corellian obviously, and one with some military background, judging from the Corellian bloodstripe he wore down the side of his trousers. This might have caused me some concern, were it not for Chewbacca. The fact that a Wookiee would work for him recommended him well in my eyes. He slid smoothly into the seat beside Chewbacca and regarded me warily.

"Han Solo," he said by way of introduction. "I'm captain of the _Millennium Falcon. _Chewie here tells me you're looking for passage to the Alderaan system."

I returned his wary expression with one of my own, then shifted into negotiation mode. With most Corellians, the best way to get their attention is to go for their ego. "Yes indeed," I replied, "if it's a fast ship."

Solo stared at me incredulously. "Fast ship? You've never heard of the _Millennium Falcon?"_

_Ha! It worked! _"No, should I have?" I asked, innocently, amused.

"It's the ship that made the Kessel run in less than twelve parsecs." When this revelation inspired only a doubtful smirk from me, he leaned forward purposefully. "I've outrun Imperial starships. Not the local bulk cruisers, mind you. I'm talking about the big Corellian ships now. She's fast enough for you, old man. What's the cargo?"

"Only passengers. Myself, the boy, two droids, and _no questions asked." _I finished with emphasis.

Solo's face erupted in a roguish grin. "What is it, some kind of local trouble?"

"Let's just say we'd like to avoid any _Imperial_ entanglements."

He leaned back a little. "Well, that's the real trick, isn't it?" he said innocently. "And it's gonna cost you something extra," he finished, all business again. "Ten thousand, all in advance?"

"_Ten thousand!" _Luke cried out, joining the conversation for the first time. "We could almost buy our own ship for that!"

"But who's gonna fly it, kid? You?" Solo retorted derisively.

"You bet I could, I'm not such a bad pilot myself," Luke spat back and I had to swallow a chuckle at the immense understatement. Then starting to rise, he turned to me. "We don't have to sit here and listen—"

I put my hand on his arm, cutting him off, and guided him back into his seat. There was something about Solo. Though he didn't seem to have any sensitivity to the Force, he was a strong presence in it, fairly radiating warm energy. Despite all his mercenary bravado, I liked Han Solo; I sensed great potential in him, and something just felt _right _about his taking us to Alderaan. I made a bold decision. "We can pay you two thousand now, plus fifteen when we reach Alderaan." Bail Organa wouldn't even flinch at paying fifteen thousand, not if the information in Artoo was as important as his daughter claimed.

_This _got Solo's attention, though he tried to act nonchalant. "Seventeen, huh?" I nodded.

He paused, pretending to weigh his options although I could clearly sense he was ecstatic. "Okay, you guys got yourself a ship. We'll leave as soon as you're ready, Docking Bay Ninety-four."

"Ninety-four," I repeated.

Solo's eyes darted behind me toward the bar. "Looks like somebody's beginning to take an interest in your handiwork."

Looking carefully over my shoulder, I saw two Imperial stormtroopers talking to the bartender, who pointed in our direction. I exchanged a brief glance with Luke, then noticed Solo jerk his head to the side, indicating a side door in the opposite direction from the approaching troopers. Nodding at him and Chewbacca, I slipped quickly out of my seat and headed in the direction Solo had indicated, Luke close on my heels.

Just before we got to the door, I sensed someone else watching us with great interest. Turning slightly, I locked eyes with, of all beings, Momaw Nadon, the Ithorian who worked with the rebellion. There was a treacherous sense about him in the Force. Odd, that someone involved with the rebellion would have ill intentions towards us. Frowning, I stared at him intently, hoping that he would realize I'd noticed him. Apparently he did, for he withered under my gaze and the threat I sensed from him was replaced with something more like shame. Whatever Nadon had had in mind, I had piqued his conscience. Then Luke and I slid quietly through the side door and out into the painfully bright Tatooine sunshine.

When we were well outside the cantina and it didn't seem that the stormtroopers had followed us, I told Luke he'd have to sell his speeder in order to pay Solo the deposit.

"That's okay, I'm never coming back to _this _planet again," he replied listlessly.

_Be careful what you say, _I thought in response, remembering my own comments about Tatooine during our fateful trip here with the Queen of Naboo, the trip where we'd met Anakin: _We could be stuck here for a really long time. _Indeed.

When we got back to Luke's landspeeder, I left him with the responsibility of finding a buyer, something that would not be hard to do on the streets of Mos Eisley. "I have something I need to attend to," I told him, "I won't be long."

Luke looked at me quizzically, but didn't protest, so I hurried off. There was one last thing I needed to do before I left the planet and I didn't want Luke to be with me when I did it.

Walking quickly away from the cantina, I turned down a side street and then entered a large open plaza. Across the way I could see what I was looking for: a public communications station. Holding my hood tightly around my face I made my way across the plaza and into the small booth. Once inside, I quickly found the option for sending an inter-system text message and composed a brief note. I then dialed up a public message service on Sullust, inserted the required currency, sent off the message, and exited the booth, heading back to find Luke.

Two days from now, if Yoda did not hear from me at our next appointed time, he would check the service on Sullust where we each still rented mailboxes. The message he would find was innocuous enough that it would have no trouble bypassing the Imperial scrutiny here on Tatooine. It read simply:

_I've started teaching again. Hope to see you soon.  
Yours, O.W._


	5. V

**V**

I found Luke not far from the cantina in one of Mos Eisley's market squares, a large series of streets and plazas that were all laid out under huge sandstone overhangs to protect merchants and their customers from the heat of Tatooine's two suns. He was negotiating with a broad-faced alien as I approached, but he was clearly not happy with the way the negotiations were going. I, however was more concerned about the sense I was picking up in the Force: someone was spying on us. I looked around me to see if maybe Momaw Nadon had changed his mind again, but I saw neither him nor anyone else who seemed to take an interest in us. Behind me, I heard Luke grumble, "All right, give it to me, I'll take it."

Turning around, I motioned for Luke to come quickly. He grabbed the money from his buyer, retrieved his poncho from the back of the speeder, then hurried to catch up with me as I was already moving away. "Look at this," he complained, showing me the sum he'd received. "Ever since the XP-38 came out, they just aren't in demand."

"It'll be enough," I said distractedly, picking up my pace. Someone was definitely watching us, but the marketplace was crowded and I could not determine who it was. After a moment I asked "Where are the droids?"

Luke frowned. "I haven't seen them since the cantina."

_Wonderful, _I thought bitterly. _It isn't enough that someone is following us, now we've gone and misplaced the entire reason we're in such a desperate hurry to get off this planet in the first place. _

Walking quickly through the market towards the exit nearest Chalmun's, we passed down a street lined on both sides with tall, yellow doors: storage units for the various merchants to store their supplies. As we reached the exit and were about to step into the harsh sunlight a few meters away from the cantina, a prissy voice shouted out behind us: "Oh, thank the Maker! There you are!" Luke and I stopped short and wheeled around to find Artoo and Threepio exiting one of the storage lockers and heading our way. How they got into the unit in the first place I did not know, but I had never been so glad to hear such a whiny voice in my entire life.

Luke let out a rush of air, his relief equal to mine. "Threepio, Artoo! Where have you been?"

"I'm sorry, Master Luke, some stormtroopers--"

"Never mind," I cut off the droid abruptly. The sense that I had that someone was watching us just took an even more ominous turn. The droids had been spotted. "We've no time to waste. We must be on our way." We then headed back the way we came, winding our way through the marketplace towards Docking Bay Ninety-four.

As we hurried through the market streets, I tried to choose as twisting and indirect a path as possible, but it seemed to me that we were still being followed, and as we neared Docking Bay Ninety-four, the Force told me we still had not shaken our pursuer. However, with our destination just around the corner, I begun to feel a little more at ease. Had our spy been an Imperial he surely would have confronted us by now. I leaned toward Luke and said quietly, "If the ship's as fast as he's boasting, we ought to do well."

We turned a corner and saw Chewbacca standing guard at the entrance to the docking bay, a menacing-looking bowcaster held casually in his huge furry paws. As we approached, Luke pulling his poncho over his head, Chewbacca growled a quick greeting, then ushered us into the docking bay. We trooped down a small flight of stairs and rounded a corner—and stopped short when the ship came into view.

Based on the personality of its owner, I had been expecting the _Millennium Falcon _to be some sort of sleek Corellian cruiser. The ship before us, however, was anything _but _sleek. A battered Corellian YT-1300 stock freighter, the _Millennium Falcon _was carbon scored and rusted in so many places it looked like it wasn't likely to lift off the ground, let alone survive a jump into hyperspace. The ship had obviously been heavily modified, although most of the exterior additions looked as if they had been grafted into place with nothing more than soorul gum and prayers.

"What a piece of junk!" Luke exclaimed in yet another hasty rush to judge appearances. I only smiled; the ship's dilapidated exterior reminded me of my own landspeeder and I suspected that like its owner, there was much more to the _Millennium Falcon _than meets the eye. I felt a sudden kinship for Han Solo then, and my respect for him went up a notch.

As if to confirm my thoughts, Solo, who was working under the ship's hull near the hatchway, left his work behind and started walking towards us, replying indignantly, "She'll make point-five past lightspeed. She may not look like much, but she's got it where it counts, kid. I made a lot of _special _modifications myself." He stopped before us. "But we're a little rushed, so if you'll just get on board, we'll get outta here."

I bowed to him politely, then followed Luke up the ramp into the ship, the droids trailing in our wake.

The ship's interior was no more impressive than its exterior; perhaps even less so because it was almost unbearably stuffy, as if the ship's more vital functions left no power available for simple comforts like climate control. I quickly removed my heavy robe and Luke took off the poncho he had just donned only minutes before, then we headed down the curved corridor in the direction I assumed would be the main passenger compartment.

That was when it all went to hell.

Apparently I had let down my guard a little too soon, because we had no sooner sat down when we could hear the sounds of blaster fire erupting outside. I leaped up from my seat, my hand reaching automatically for the lightsaber on my belt, but I did not withdraw it. Motioning for Luke to remain where he was, I hurried back toward the hatch to see if I could be of assistance. Luke, ignoring my instructions, was right behind me, but we'd only taken a few steps when Solo burst through the doorway, pausing only long enough to seal it shut behind him.

"Chewie, get us out of here!" he shouted, then bolted for the cockpit as Luke and I ran back into the passenger hold to strap in.

"Oh my, I've forgotten how much I hate space travel," Threepio moaned dolefully as the _Millennium Falcon _shuddered around us, pressing us back into our seats. Though irritated by the complaint, I had to agree with the sentiment. As much as I loved traveling to distant worlds, I had never much cared for the actual flying. Before I knew it, however, we were off, heading out of the atmosphere and away from Tatooine's gravitational well.

Under other circumstances, it might have been an emotional time for me, leaving behind my home of eighteen years and taking with me the boy I'd brought here as an infant. But with our somewhat less-than-furtive launch from the planet, and knowing that there were capital ships in orbit, I had no time for reminiscing. As soon as we left the turbulence of atmosphere for the comparative tranquility of space, Luke and I unbuckled our restraints and joined Solo and Chewbacca in the cockpit.

"Stay sharp, there are two more coming in, they're gonna try and cut us off," Solo was saying to his Wookiee copilot as we entered the cockpit.

"Why don't you outrun 'em? I thought you said this thing was fast," Luke scoffed, further aggravating the already contentious relationship between him and the Corellian.

"Watch your mouth, kid, or you're gonna find yourself floating home," Solo snapped back. "We'll be safe enough once we make the jump to lightspeed. Besides, I know a few maneuvers, we'll lose 'em."

The _Millennium Falcon _shook violently as our pursuers—Star Destroyers, I noted on the scopes—got off a few rounds. "Here's where the fun begins," Solo quipped, eerily reminiscent of Anakin who had been known to say the same thing when about to go into battle. Was that why I had so immediately liked Solo, because his bravado reminded me of Anakin? Certainly I hoped his piloting skills were similar.

"How long before you can make the jump to lightspeed?" I interjected.

Solo turned in his seat and flipped a few switches behind him. "It'll take a few moments to get the coordinates from the navicomputer." Another shot rocked the ship.

"Are you kidding, at the rate they're gaining?" Luke protested.

"Traveling through hyperspace ain't like dustin' crops, boy. Without precise calculations we'd fly right through a star or bounce too close to a supernova and that'd end your trip real quick, wouldn't it?"

The battered freighter continued to shudder under merciless fire from the Star Destroyers as bursts of light flashed before us from lasers that missed us. An alarm shrilled suddenly and a huge red indicator light in front of Chewbacca began flashing.

"What's that flashing?" Luke asked, pointing to the light.

Solo slapped his arm away. "We're losing a deflector shield. Go strap yourselves in, I'm gonna make the jump to lightspeed."

The words were barely out of his mouth when Luke was out the door with me close behind. We ran back to the passenger hold where Threepio was wailing that we were all doomed, and strapped ourselves back into our seats. We then felt a sudden lurch, and all was quiet. We'd made it into hyperspace and Tatooine was already light-years away.

* * *

The trip in hyperspace from Tatooine to Alderaan is a surprisingly short one— several hours rather than the several days one would think necessary to travel between the two, considering their distance from each other. Tatooine was in the Outer Rim, the fringes of the galaxy near wild space. Alderaan, on the other hand, was a Core World, near both the political and astronomical heart of the galaxy. However, unlike many most other planets on the Outer Rim, Tatooine was located along a major hyperspace trade route known as the Corellian Run, which was a straight line right into the Corellian system. From there, it was just a short jump along another heavily frequented route, the Corellian Trade Spine, to reach Alderaan. Because one could only travel in one direction while in hyperspace, a trip that necessitated many direction changes required frequent drops back into realspace, thus adding considerable amounts of time to the journey. With only one course adjustment required between Tatooine and Alderaan, the trip was relatively short—very fortunate, as we were in a hurry to get Artoo and the plans he carried to Bail Organa. And yet... I found myself wishing that the trip would be much longer. Days or weeks, not hours. For it was here, in the cramped main passenger compartment on a tiny YT-1300 stock freighter that Luke Skywalker began his training as a Jedi Knight. I told myself that I was being ridiculous, that whatever was begun here in these few hours would be expanded upon after we reached Alderaan and even further when I brought him to Dagobah for Yoda to train, but the feeling persisted that this trip, this two-jump journey between Tatooine and Alderaan, would be all the time I would have.

With this feeling weighing heavily on me, I lost no time and began working with Luke as soon as we had successfully evaded the Star Destroyers over Tatooine. I started by discussing some important concepts with him and giving him some rudimental meditation exercises, although Luke was impatient to try out his father's lightsaber. Sternly I warned him about the dangers of being impetuous and restless, lessons in which I was very well versed if only because Yoda and Qui-Gon had been forced to repeat them to me so very many times. Although Luke was an extremely bright and eager student, he was very old for a novice—an adult, really—and already had some firmly established beliefs about how the universe worked. This is one of the reasons that in the days of the Old Republic, potential Jedi were taken from their homes as infants or toddlers, so that the Masters could teach them the ways of the Force from the beginning. Circumstances had prevented Luke from having this kind of life-long immersion in the Force, so although he had without a doubt the most innate talent I'd ever encountered in a life form—with the possible exception of his father—Luke had many beliefs and habits that had to be unlearned before he could even begin to feel the most elementary connection with the Force. To Luke's dismay, this meant spending the bulk of the journey relearning how to _see _and _feel _rather than engaging in the more exciting diversion of lightsaber exercises.

Between Tatooine and Corellia, Solo wandered in and out of the room, sometimes busying himself with various ship duties, but often taking a moment to listen to what I was explaining or watch what Luke was doing, then snort or roll his eyes in derision. It was clear that Han Solo had no use for the Force and that with every word I slid further down in his estimation. The few times I allowed Luke to take a break from our intensive study, however, Solo engaged him in a quick hand of sabaac or a round of dejarik and the antagonism that characterized their earlier interactions began to evaporate. I suspected that despite himself, the cynical Corellian was actually developing a fondness for the boy. I suppose this should have concerned me in that he was a smuggler and a criminal wont to negate everything I was trying to teach Luke, but again I got that sense of _rightness _about Solo, so I did nothing to discourage their budding friendship.

As we neared Corellia, Solo and Chewbacca returned to the cockpit and Luke and I strapped ourselves in for the jump back into realspace, which came about in short order. We had no sooner come out of hyperspace when I began to sense something wrong. When we did not return to hyperspace after the amount of time I would expect for the necessary calculations for the trip to Alderaan, I began to worry. Something was definitely wrong. Unstrapping myself I made my way towards the cockpit, Luke following behind me. There we found Solo engaged in a tense conversation with someone from another ship.

"What is it?" I asked, concerned.

Solo flipped off his communication channel. "Imperial checkpoint. They're doing random checks on freighters changing course in the Corellian system. I fed them a fake ship ID, but I don't think they're going for it."

"What do we do if they don't 'go for it'?" Luke asked nervously.

"Take it easy, kid," Solo said boldly, "it's only a couple of light cruisers, _Carrack-_class. Nothing we can't outrun."

The comm unit crackled and a voice filled the cabin: "Your identification is not valid. Please shut down your engines and prepare to be boarded."

"Boarded my... Chewie! Punch it!" Chewbacca roared in agreement and Solo turned back to us. "You two get back in the passenger hold."

As over Tatooine, we obeyed quickly and left the Corellian and the Wookiee to their work. Fortunately for us, although _Carrack-_class cruisers were fast, Solo's boasts about the _Falcon's _speed and "special modifications" proved to be at least somewhat accurate. He had little trouble evading the small ships, which had evidently not been prepared for such a battered freighter to even attempt to make a run for it, and before long we were safely in hyperspace on our final leg of our journey to Alderaan.

Not long after we made it back into hyperspace, Chewbacca entered the passenger compartment and informed me that we were safely away from Corellia and could return to our exercises. Unlike his partner, I sensed no contempt from Chewbacca regarding the Force or the Jedi practices, confirming my initial suspicious about his esteem for the Jedi. Something in Chewbacca's bearing told me that he approved of my training Luke in the Jedi arts. Quietly—if one can ever accuse a Wookiee of doing anything quietly—he made his way to the dejarik table and challenged the droids to a game, allowing Luke and I to resume our exercises.

Rising from my seat, I withdrew a small remote from the pack at my belt. "Get your lightsaber," I instructed Luke.

He didn't even try to disguise the excitement in his eyes as he reached for his lightsaber—Anakin's lightsaber—and activated it. Thumbing on the remote's power switch, I tossed the small sphere into the air and it hovered around Luke like an angry insect. "Your goal," I explained as Luke eyed the device with interest, "is to defend yourself. You are _not _to attack the remote. Just reach out to it with the Force to determine when and where it will strike and use your lightsaber to block the blasts."

I briefly demonstrated a basic Form One guard and a few simple parries, then Luke moved into a very good imitation of my guard position. I was pleased to note he had a somewhat natural feel for the lightsaber and seemed like he would be inclined toward the Soresu form like myself rather than the more kinetic Djem So his father had favored. He watched the ball warily as it moved slowly back and forth before him. Suddenly, it made a sharp movement to Luke's left and shot a small electrical charge at him. Luke managed to avoid getting hit despite the fact that he was not able to get his lightsaber in position to block. The remote then darted in for another quick jab, and Luke was able to deflect this with his blade, but just barely. A few more rounds and it looked like he might be getting into the flow, when the remote swooped in and let out another blast, hitting Luke in the forearm. The boy yelped in pain and for a minute I thought he was going to lunge at the thing in return, but he caught himself in time, remembering my instructions to defend only, and resumed guard position as the sphere floated back and forth before him tauntingly.

I stood near him, watching, and was about to make a suggestion when the words died in my throat. Without warning, the Force exploded around me, a massive wave of energy that slammed into me with the force of a Star Destroyer ramming a starfighter. It assailed every one of my senses: heat and fire, blinding light, the bone-chilling wail of millions upon millions of life forms shrieking in agony, the taste of blood, the smell of death. Whereas Owen's death had been close and personal, a single blaster shot to the heart, this was a thermal detonator going off five hundred meters away. It knocked the breath out of me and made me so nauseous I thought I might vomit. Clutching my chest, I staggered over to a stool that was situated at the edge of the room and lowered myself carefully into it. After what seemed like hours but was more likely only a few seconds, it all started to slowly recede—all but the sound of screaming, which stopped abruptly and was replaced with so complete a silence it was somehow worse.

As the images gradually gave way to the more tangible reality of the _Millennium Falcon _around me, I realized Luke was at my side, his face etched with concern. Had he at all sensed what had just happened or was it merely worry for me?

"Are you all right? What's wrong?" Luke was saying.

I swallowed hard and tried to regain my breath. How could I describe what had just happened? "I felt a great disturbance in the Force," I said, understating it greatly, "as if millions of voices suddenly cried out in terror and were suddenly silenced. I feel something terrible has happened." I wiped my brow as if that could wipe the images away, then tried to shake off the hollow dread that surrounded me. _ Don't center on your anxiety, Obi-Wan, _I could hear Qui-Gon's voice reminding me_. Keep your concentration on the here and now. Be mindful of the living Force. _"You'd better get on with your exercises," I prompted Luke. Still troubled by my behavior, Luke nevertheless followed my instructions while I rested my forehead in my hand and attempted to ease the residual throbbing in my mind.

As Luke crossed back to the center of the room to resume his practice with the remote, Han Solo swaggered in. "Well, you can forget your troubles with those Imperial slugs. I told you I'd outrun them."

Ignoring Solo, I focused back in on Luke as the pounding in my brain finally dulled. Luke reactivated his lightsaber and the remote attacked, but this time he was able to successfully—if somewhat awkwardly—block two blasts. Solo sat down in a chair beside me and mumbled indignantly, "Don't everyone thank me at once." When that likewise failed to engender a response, he went on, "Anyway, we should be at Alderaan about oh-two-hundred hours."

_Such a short while from now,_ I thought with regret, dreading the conclusion of our trip together. I watched Luke, savoring these moments with him, willing time to slow down as he continued to practice. The droids and Chewbacca got into some argument over their game, which distracted Luke and his defenses became even more clumsy as his focus turned outward.

"Remember, a Jedi can feel the Force flowing through him," I reminded him.

"You mean it controls your actions?" he asked without taking his eyes off the remote. He was watching it too closely, seeing it with his eyes rather than _feeling _it, I noted.

"Partially, but it also obeys your commands." The remote darted in and let out another blast, this time catching Luke completely off guard and hitting him in his backside. Han Solo let out a jeering laugh.

"Hokey religions and ancient weapons are no match for a good blaster at your side, kid."

Taking Solo's bait, Luke shut down his lightsaber. "You don't believe in the Force, do you?"

Solo rolled his eyes. "Kid, I've flown from one side of this galaxy to the other, I've seen a lot of strange stuff, but I've never seen _anything _to make me believe there's one all-powerful Force controlling _everything."_ I chuckled, amused by his cynicism, which so characterized this generation. _I can't see it, can't feel it, so it can't be real. _"There's no mystical energy field controls _my _destiny," he asserted smugly, "it's all a lot of simple tricks and nonsense."

I slapped my hands on my lap and got up, rising to Solo's challenge. "I suggest you try it again, Luke." Hanging behind me on a wall was a battered flight helmet with a completely opaque blast shield. Pulling it off its peg I took it over to Luke. "This time, let go your conscious self and act on instinct." I then placed the helmet squarely on Luke's head, blast shield in place before his eyes.

Luke snickered in disbelief. "With the blast shield down I can't even see. How am I supposed to fight?"

"Your eyes can deceive you, don't trust them," I told him simply.

Luke thumbed on his lightsaber and went into guard stance once more, but it was obvious he was not depending on the Force to guide him, but rather was trying to track the remote with his ears instead of his eyes. This was no help whatsoever and the very first blast caught him in the hip. Luke grimaced in frustration.

"Stretch out with your _feelings."_

This time he took a deep breath and I could see his whole bearing relax and for the first time since he began working with the remote, he seemed calm and at ease. _Aha! He's feeling the Force now, _I thought with some satisfaction. The remote moved about him, but Luke was in tune with it now, and when it lashed out with three bolts in a row, Luke blocked them with swift and precise thrusts of his lightsaber. _Soresu_ thrusts, I couldn't help but note with smug satisfaction.

"See, you can do it," I told him warmly as he shut down his weapon and took off the helmet. His face glowed with pride.

"I call it luck," Solo snorted from his corner.

I looked over my shoulder at him. "In my experience there's no such thing as luck."

"Look, good against remotes is one thing," he argued. "Good against the living? That's something else." A proximity alarm then beeped insistently and Solo got up. "Looks like we're coming up on Alderaan." He headed off towards the cockpit with Chewbacca following him.

Luke, undaunted by Solo's jibes, came up beside me. "You know, I _did _feel something. I could almost see the remote."

I beamed. "That's good! You've taken your first step into a larger world." But as we strapped into our seats for the jump back into normal space, the pride I felt at Luke's accomplishment gave way to melancholy: it was Luke's first real accomplishment under my tutelage, but somehow I sensed that it would also be the last.


	6. VI

**VI**

It didn't take any Force sensitivity to know that something was very, very wrong as soon as we jumped out of hyperspace into the Alderaan system. We could feel the usual lurch of deceleration as we reverted back to realspace, but instead of the expected smoothness of space flight afterward, the ship immediately began rocking and careening with such force I would have thought we had come out of hyperspace onto the surface of a planet experiencing a violent groundquake. Luke and I exchanged glances and simultaneously unstrapped ourselves for yet another mad dash to the cockpit.

"It's not on any of the charts," Solo was shouting at Chewbacca as we entered the flight cabin. Through the viewport we could see a hailstorm of asteroids flying at us at disconcerting speed.

"What's going on?" Luke asked.

"Our position's correct," Solo continued, more to his copilot than a response to Luke's question, "except... no Alderaan."

A deep sense of dread clutched my heart and my stomach did a slow somersault. That disturbance I'd felt...

"What do you mean, where is it?" Luke demanded.

"That's what I'm trying to tell you, kid, it ain't there. It's been totally blown away."

"What? How?"

"Destroyed," I said as the certainty settled in on me: this had something to do with Leia and those plans, I was sure of it. "By the Empire," I finished.

We finally reached the edge of the asteroids and the ship's flight leveled out. Solo turned to me in disbelief. "The entire starfleet couldn't destroy the whole planet. It'd take a thousand ships with more firepower than I've—" He was interrupted abruptly by the shrill blare of an alarm. Checking his scopes, he informed us tensely, "There's another ship coming in."

"Maybe they know what happened," Luke ventured.

I shook my head, recognizing the familiar shape of a TIE fighter on the scope. "It's an Imperial fighter."

As if to confirm my assessment, a shot lit up space ahead of us and the TIE fighter zipped past from behind.

Luke cried out, "It followed us!"

"No," I replied, relying on the Force to keep me calm. TIE fighters had no hyperdrive. "It's a short-range fighter."

"There aren't any bases around here," Solo put in. "Where did it come from?"

"It sure is leaving in a hurry," Luke pointed out. "If they identify us, we're in big trouble."

"Not if I can help it! Chewie, jam its transmissions," Solo ordered.

_No. This is wrong, all wrong. Alderaan's gone, the fighter, it's all wrong... _"It'd be as well to let it go, it's too far out of range," I suggested. I almost used the Force to back up my suggestion, but decided against it. Solo didn't seem to be particularly weak minded.

"Not for long!" he vowed, proving me right.

"A fighter that size couldn't get this deep into space on its own," I mused. There was something about it, something I couldn't pinpoint. The dark stain of the aftermath of Alderaan's destruction permeated every sense, making it difficult to sense anything else through it, but there was something beyond that, something very wrong about that fighter and how it came to be here. Wrong, but... inevitable?

"He must've gotten lost, been part of a convoy or something," Luke suggested.

"Well, he ain't gonna be around long enough to tell anybody about us," Solo said doggedly.

Ahead of us, one of the points of light we had assumed was a star began to grow quickly, not a star at all, but something much closer. Luke saw it, too. Pointing out the viewscreen he cried "Look at him, he's heading for that small moon!"

Moon? Did Alderaan even have a moon? I shivered as the sense of _wrongness _began to take focus, a dark shape moving out of the cloying fog that was Alderaan's death.

"I think I can get him before he gets there. He's almost in range," Solo was saying as the "moon" grew closer and the darkness solidified. Darkness and cold. Deep, bone-chilling cold.

_Cold? _My eyes widened suddenly as I realized what I was sensing. _Vader. Vader, there on that m— _"That's no moon," I said, abruptly cutting off my own train of thought. "It's a space station."

"It's too big to be a space station," Solo objected, but then he stiffened and looked more closely at the sphere—a huge sphere, I could see now—as it grew ever larger in the viewport. Lines and circles that had looked like valleys and craters from a distance were resolving themselves into decidedly more sentient-made forms.

Chewbacca growled softly, clearly disturbed, and beside me Luke shuddered. "I have a very bad feeling about this," he almost whispered.

_Bloody Sith, he can sense it! _"Turn the ship around!" I ordered.

Solo stared ahead, transfixed by the size and scope of the now clearly metallic object before us. "Yeah, I think you're right." Then he snapped into action, as if coming out of a trance. "Full reverse. Chewie, lock in the auxiliary power."

He hadn't even gotten the words out of his mouth before the ship suddenly lurched, then began to shake as if we'd just entered the turbulence of atmosphere. "Chewie, lock in the auxiliary power!" Solo repeated desperately.

_Tractor beam, _I thought grimly.

"Why are we still moving towards it?" Luke cried, his voice rising in panic.

"We're caught in a tractor beam. It's pulling us in," Solo snapped as he and Chewbacca struggled with the controls.

"There's gotta be something you can do!"

"There's nothing I can do about it, kid, I'm at full power, I'm gonna have to shut down." He reached behind him and flipped some switches to power down the engines and the ride suddenly smoothed out as the ship stopped straining against the tractor beam. "They're not gonna get me without a fight," he swore. Chewbacca wailed mournfully.

As we drew ever closer, Vader's presence grew stronger and clearer until I felt as if I would choke on it. He would sense me, maybe even sense Luke. However, far from paralyzing me, this time his presence stirred my resolve and I felt oddly strong and clear, as if my entire life had led up to this very moment. It was inevitable that I face my former apprentice again. My job was to make sure I was far away from Luke when I did so. Toward that end, a plan began to form in my mind. I leaned in towards Solo. "You can't win. But there are alternatives to fighting."

There was a long pause as we all watched the space station fill our view. At length, Solo said quietly, "I'm listening, old man."

"You _are _a smuggler, right?"

At first he just frowned at me, but then his eyes lit up as he understood what I was getting at. He turned to Chewbacca. "Chewie, go back and open up the deck compartments. Take Luke with you, we don't have much time."

Chewbacca barked his approval and quickly rose from his seat and bustled past Luke and me, motioning for the boy to follow him. Still confused, Luke started to say something, but I gave him a short nod and without further complaint he followed the Wookiee out of the cockpit.

"I'm gonna need your help," Solo said to me as I turned my attention back to him. "How are your slicing skills?"

"Not bad," I replied, surprised that he would even begin to think I had any at all.

"Okay. We need to slice into the ship's log and alter the records to show that we ejected some escape pods after leaving Tatooine." A ship's log was a record of every action taken by the ship's computer or its mechanical components. It was recorded automatically and was supposedly inviolable, even by the ship's captain, but any halfway decent slicer could usually break in and alter the records, and no doubt Solo had prior experience in this area.

I nodded, pleased to see that he was a quick strategist even when the plan did not involve blaster fire. But there was one problem with his plan: "Won't the fact that no pods were ejected contradict the log?"

He shook his head. "I have a few empty pod bays. I had to jettison some cargo recently."

We quickly set about the task and with the two of us working together we managed to change the records in short order. We then headed out to the corridor near the main hatch where Chewbacca and Luke were busy settling Artoo into a small compartment hidden under the floor panels. Solo went to help them while I went back to the passenger compartment, grabbed my cloak, and made a quick scan of the room for any other incidentals left behind. When I got back, Chewbacca was trying to stuff his mammoth form into a second compartment while Luke and Solo were shoving a highly indignant Threepio in with Artoo. When Threepio's complaints would not cease, Luke reached over and flipped off his power switch and the droid's visual scanners went dead. With no further resistance from him, the two men were able to stow him fairly quickly, then they both jumped into the compartment with Chewbacca, leaving me the compartment with the droids. I sighed. Even shut down, no one wanted to be locked in a confined space with Threepio.

"Won't they have life form scanners?" I heard Luke asking Solo as they settled into their cubicle.

"Not at first," the Corellian replied confidently, "they'll be expecting a fight. When they find the ship empty, they'll go back for the scanners, so we won't have much time." Then they popped the floor panel into place above them.

I crawled in next to the droids and pulled the cover over my head and let it settle seamlessly into the deck above. By this time I could detect the sounds of a busy hangar bay outside the ship; we obviously had passed through the magnetic shield and were inside the space station. Vader's presence was everywhere, nearly overpowering, but I drew in the Force around me like a cloak and made myself as small and still a presence as I could. Then it was simply a matter of waiting.

After an interminable delay, I heard the main hatch forced open and the metallic voice of a stormtrooper shouting for us to surrender. When they got no response, the heavy clink of boots rained on the ramp and then finally thundered onto the deck right above my head. I half listened as they conducted their brief search, for my attention was drawn elsewhere as Vader's icy presence drew into clear focus: he was just outside the ship. Would he come on board? Did he sense me too? If so, did he recognize me? But he didn't come on board and eventually he left the hangar, his presence diffusing again, and the storm of boots overhead quieted as the troops exited the ship, no doubt to retrieve a life form scanner. I then heard the deeper thump of Luke and Solo raising the lid on their hiding place.

"Boy, it's lucky you had these compartments," came Luke's voice, muffled through the floor panel above me. I pushed up on it as Solo was replying.

"I use them for smuggling. I never thought I'd be smuggling myself in them." As I poked my head out, he turned to me. "This is ridiculous. Even if I could take off, I'd never get past that tractor beam."

"Leave that to me," I replied, silently thanking the Force that I had had occasion to learn exactly how to power down a tractor beam just before the end of the Clone Wars when Anakin and I had been hunting for Darth Sidious on Escarte, not knowing that he had been on Coruscant the entire time and we had been looking on the wrong side of the war.

Solo hoisted himself out of his compartment. "Damn fool, I _knew _you were gonna say that."

"Who's the more foolish, the fool or the fool who follows him?" I rejoined, pulling myself up.

We all managed to extricate ourselves from our hiding places, leaving only the droids behind as we heard boots coming up the ramp once more: the scanning crew, no doubt. Solo and Chewbacca took up positions on opposite sides of the hatch and waited as the technicians boarded. Two quick blows from the Wookiee's massive arms and both men were down, their cargo dropping to the deck with a loud thud. Solo then called out through the doorway, "Hey down there! Could you give us a hand with this?" I kept my hand loosely on my lightsaber, but it wasn't needed: two quick bursts from Solo's blaster on stun and the stormtroopers who answered his call were lying on the floor in a heap with the scanning technicians.

Working quickly, we stripped the troopers of their armor. I shuddered when we removed their helmets, revealing their identical faces, a thousand other faces exactly like them flashing through my mind. Jango Fett, the original. Boba Fett, his son. Jangotat. Xutoo. Sirty. Forry. Seefor. And, of course, Cody. Comrades in arms, all of them but the Fetts, right up until Order Sixty-Six. I closed my eyes against the assault of memories, then took a deep breath and let it go before returning to the task of liberating them from their armor.

Once we had it, Solo and Luke donned the two troopers' uniforms while Chewbacca and I dragged the four unconscious men back into the passenger hold and locked them into storage lockers. They would be missed eventually, but with any luck there would be enough time for me to deactivate the tractor beam before they were found and the whole station put on alert. We then quickly pulled the droids out of their compartment and turned on Threepio, warning him sternly that he would be shut down again if he uttered so much as one syllable before we had found a safe place to hide in the station. Our motley band—an old man, a Wookiee, two droids, and two "stormtroopers"—then crept through the hatch while I reached out with the Force to see if anyone else was watching the ship. No one was at the moment—apparently only the two troopers we'd already dispatched had been left to guard the "empty" ship—so we moved very quickly down the ramp and out into the hanger bay.

Before my boot even touched the metal deck of the space station, before I even saw that the sterile metal corridors outside the hanger bay matched exactly with the scene from my dream, the scene where I fought Vader instead of Maul, I knew I would not be leaving this space station alive. Vader's presence mixed with an inevitable sense of destiny: here I would face my former Padawan one more time, here I would make my final stand. The certainty of this truth was at once oddly comforting and deeply distressing. My journey was compete, or nearly so, but Luke's had only just begun and I would have to leave him so soon. It very nearly broke my heart, but I remembered Qui-Gon's admonishment to let go, to accept my time when it comes. But not yet. I still had one more task to perform. I had to make sure that my traveling companions made it off of this station.

Solo, Chewbacca, the droids, and I trooped quickly out of the hanger and up to the observation room that overlooked it, leaving Luke behind at the _Falcon _to stand watch. As we reached the door, it opened suddenly and an officer stepped out, his face contorting into shock as he saw the huge Wookiee towering over him. With a mighty howl, Chewbacca threw the man across the room as Solo stepped out and shot the second officer as he tried to reach for his blaster, this time not bothering with the stun setting. He removed his helmet as we all hurried into the room and the droids and I began searching for the main computer connection. Luke ran in last as he caught up with us, shut the door behind him, locked it, then took off his helmet as well.

"You know, between his howling and your blasting everything in sight, it's a wonder the whole station doesn't know we're here," he berated Solo.

"Bring 'em on, I prefer a straight fight to all this sneaking around," Solo shot back.

Artoo beeped loudly and Threepio translated to me: "We found the computer outlet, sir."

"Plug in," I directed him, "he should be able to interpret the entire Imperial network."

Artoo moved over to the computer access outlet and reached a utility arm forward and plugged in, beeping methodically as he did so. At length his domed head swiveled in Threepio's direction and he spat out a burst of whistles and beeps.

"He says he's found the main controls to the power beam that's holding the ship here. He'll try to make the precise location appear on the monitor." I turned towards the monitor as several schematics passed in quick succession. "The tractor beam is coupled to the main reactor in seven locations," Threepio continued. "A power loss at one of the terminals would allow the ship to leave." The series of images finally halted on one, which zoomed in and highlighted the location of the terminal in question. I quickly memorized the route displayed, then turned towards Luke.

"I don't think you boys can help. I must go alone." _And put as much distance between myself and Luke as possible, _I added silently.

Solo didn't argue. "Whatever you say. I got more than I bargained for on this trip already."

Luke, however, would not acquiesce so easily. Intercepting me at the exit, he said earnestly, "I want to go with you." Did he perhaps sense, as I did, the finality of this venture for me?

"Be patient, Luke. Stay and watch over the droids."

"But he can—"

"They must be delivered safely or other star systems will suffer the same fate as Alderaan," I cut him off, reminding him of our reason for being here in the first place. I then reached for his arm, willing away the lump forming in my throat. "Your destiny lies along a different path than mine."

I wanted to say more. I had so much to tell him, so many feelings to express, and our time together had been almost unbearably short. He had no idea how important he was to me, how proud I was of him. I wanted to tell him, I wanted to make sure he understood. He was my Padawan, my legacy. But to say more would have only worried him needlessly and he might have insisted on staying with me, so as I opened the door I said simply, "The Force will be with you, always." Then I swept through the door and didn't look back.


	7. VII

**VII**

I moved silently through the corridors, still trying to keep myself an inert presence in the Force, at least insofar as I was able. Vader would find me eventually, of that I had no doubt, but I needed it to be later rather than sooner. I had to get that tractor beam out of commission first. Luke's escape—with the droids, of course—was paramount. And the Force help us all if Vader got close enough to those droids to recognize them!

I crept among the shadows as I went, but fortunately passing troops were few and far between. Apparently they were still operating under the assumption that the captured ship had been empty and therefore posed no threat.

I passed level after level, each exactly like the last, until I finally reached a bridge that extended out over an endless abyss. It reminded me of the power station in Theed. _Why are power stations always located over bottomless pits? _I wondered with annoyance. Connected to that bridge was one of the terminals where the tractor beam was coupled to the main reactor.

I slipped onto the narrow connecting walkway that circled around the terminal, hugging the terminal as I went. Something in the Force told me to move quickly—not easy, given the narrowness of the walk and the impossible height of the drop below. No sooner had I rounded the back side of the terminal, out of sight from the main bridge and several others like it above and below, a squad of stormtroopers marched past on a bridge above. Security seemed to have increased all of the sudden. Had the missing troops and technicians been found sooner than expected? Or had my traveling companions done something rash? Given Luke's impatience and Solo's bravado, I wouldn't be surprised if it were the latter. _What have you boys gotten yourselves into? _I wondered. But there was nothing I could do about that now; ignoring the troops above me, I set about my task.

The terminal was exactly like the one I remembered on Escarte, a fairly standard power coupling with several access panels. The first controlled the power to the terminal itself, which I shut down. However, if the power stayed off for too long, it would be noticed, so I had to get to the specific control for the tractor beam coupling, located in a separate panel. Sliding around the terminal, I found the panel and carefully deactivated the tractor beam, then moved back to the first panel and pulled the power level back up, thus turning the terminal's power back on. When the power was up but the tractor beam display stayed off, I sucked in a breath of relief. The beam was disabled; Luke and the others would be able to leave.

Sighing in satisfaction, I began to move back toward the main bridge when a guard detail appeared. Pulling back quickly, I listened as one of them asked for regular reports. The bulk of the detail then moved off, leaving behind two guards.

"Do you know what's going on?" one asked his comrade.

"Maybe it's another drill," the second suggested, sounding bored.

Doubtful, that. Again I wondered what Luke and his companions were up to.

As the guards continued their discussion, I snuck as far around the terminal as I dared. Using the Force, I directed a small wave of energy out into the main corridor beyond the bridge. It hit the wall with a loud _ping._

"What was that?" the first trooper asked, whipping around to look out into the hallway.

The second turned to follow his gaze. "Nah, it's nothing, don't worry about it." They both turned their attention back towards the bridge, but by that time I was out of sight in the opposite direction.

The trip back towards the hanger was much more difficult than the one out here; security had not only increased, it appeared that the whole station had gone on full alert and stormtroopers were everywhere. I tried listening in on some of their conversations to ascertain what had happened, but most of them were more ignorant than I was of the high alert status. Finally, as I stood pressed back into a small alcove waiting for a large squad of troopers to pass, I caught a hint of something about an escaped prisoner.

_Escaped prisoner? _I thought. Surely there hadn't been enough time for the others to be captured _and _escape. Maybe this had nothing to do with them after all. But my instincts told me otherwise, and as I made it down one more level I overheard another snippet of a conversation: "Tarkin will have our heads if we don't find her..."

And then I knew. Her. _Leia. _Of course! She had been captured by Vader over Tatooine and now Vader was here. It stood to reason that she was here too. I felt foolish for not having thought of it sooner and was glad to think that she may have escaped. The question was, how? Or more correctly, with whose help? As if I didn't already know the answer to _that _one.

The further down toward the hanger I got, the more frantic the pace of the stormtroopers became. "We think they may be splitting up, they may be on levels five and six now," one trooper was saying tersely into his comlink as another squad ran past me. Perhaps they would all manage to make it back to the ship in one piece. Not only that, I myself had made it all the way back to the hanger level. Perhaps I would make it back, too. Perhaps I had been wrong about my destiny here.

But as I slipped out of the shadows and headed down the hall, I knew instantly my optimism was premature. Vader's presence hung around me like a cloud, suddenly much closer. Reflexively I withdrew my lightsaber and held its comforting weight in my hand as I picked up my pace. _Almost there, _I thought desperately, but was suddenly so cold I drew my hood up over my head as if that alone could shield me from the chill, shield me from _him._ A futile gesture, of course. I barely went another dozen steps and suddenly there he was, standing in front of me, red lightsaber ignited but held casually down, as if he were just out for a stroll.

After two decades, here I was, face to face—well, face to helmet anyway—with my former apprentice. Anakin Skywalker—_Vader, Anakin's dead!—_stood before me.

I stopped dead in my tracks and Vader approached me in long, smooth strides. Igniting my lightsaber and gripping it carefully with both my hands, I began walking slowly towards him, meeting him halfway.

"I've been waiting for you, Obi-Wan," he said, his deep, amplified voice almost casual, as if I were merely late for an appointment. "We meet again at last."

He brought up his lightsaber to guard position then, his stance instantly changing from casual to predatory. "The circle is now complete. When I left you, I was but the learner. Now I am the master."

"Only a master of evil, _Darth,"_ I replied evenly, mocking his Sith title, hoping that his tendency toward anger would give me an advantage. Of course, anger was _my _weakness as well, but at this moment I felt completely calm and could feel the Force flowing through me, strong and reassuring, as I accepted the inevitability of this confrontation. With acceptance came peace; the pain of losing Anakin to the dark side felt strangely distant as he stood before me. _The hate is all on his side. I am prepared to fight the evil he does. He may kill me one day, but he will never wound me again_. Qui-Gon's words, and for the first time they were true for me as well. Then I lunged.

His blade met mine with an electronic sizzle and I reversed my thrust downward, then back up again. He pressed me back, and I retreated slightly, twirling my blade in my hands to get a better grip. With a quick spin on my heel, I struck again, but he blocked me at every pass until once more he pressed forward, pushing me back. It was Mustafar all over again, only replayed in slow motion, almost casually, as if we were merely doing a walk-through rehearsal of a scene from a holovid. The passion was gone on both sides. Anakin's raw fury, blaming me for Padmé's unwillingness to follow him into the abyss, had cooled and hardened over the years, as if it had been the lava from Mustafar itself, brought into deep space to freeze into solid rock. My own grief had ebbed as well and Vader's armor kept an emotional barrier between me and the Padawan I had loved. Also, though still both strong with the Force, neither of us were the Jedi we had been. I had lost much to age and grief, he to his mechanical limbs. Nevertheless, he was _extremely _powerful. He charged at me viciously, his lightsaber hitting the wall in a shower of sparks as I dodged, barely getting out of the way in time. As I circled around him, Vader clearly sensed the decline in my abilities since we had last met.

"Your powers are weak old man," he taunted me.

I only smiled. "You can't win, _Darth_," I told him confidently, mocking his title again. "If you strike me down, I shall become more powerful than you can possibly imagine." The Sith knew nothing of the Order of the Whills. They knew nothing of true power.

I moved in again, strong with the Force, and this time managed to press _him _back. It was a small victory, I knew. Clearly Vader was the more powerful of the two of us, and he was merely toying with me, enjoying the game. But as we faced off again, he said to me, "You should not have come back," and I thought I detected a note of regret. Was it possible that Anakin was still in there somewhere after all?

If there had beenany regret, it was short lived and Vader attacked again, his red blade hissing against my blue one. With several quick thrusts, he managed to press his advantage and slowly began backing me down the hall until there was no hall left behind me, only a smaller passageway to my left and an open blast door to my right. Beyond that doorway, the hanger and the _Millennium Falcon._

_Blast, I'd almost made it, _I thought briefly before returning my full attention to Vader. He lunged again and I managed to circle out of his way so that his back was to the wall and I had the entire corridor behind me.

As we battled, we caught the attention of several stormtroopers who had been stationed in the hanger bay, guarding the freighter. They rushed forward to see if they could assist their commander, but Vader waved them off and they simply milled around us just on the other side of blast doors.

It was at that point, as Vader and I faced off one last time, that I felt another presence in the Force, something with just enough warmth and strength to cut through the biting cold of Vader's presence. I turned toward the hanger, half expecting to see Qui-Gon there, telling me to let go. Instead I saw Luke.

He was running toward us, but stopped short as his gaze met mine. He caught his breath, his face a mask of horror.

_That's how I looked when I knew Qui-Gon was going to die, _I thought suddenly, and my heart began to ache. How could I leave him, this Padawan I'd had for so brief a time? How could I when I knew what it was like to watch your master die? But as I turned my eyes back to Vader, the Force was with me, infusing me with a strength and peace I'd never known before. The choice was simple, really. Vader would not let me go and I could not defeat him. I could delay my destiny, but I could not escape it, and a delay would only give the stormtroopers more time to notice Luke and his companions escaping. Qui-Gon was right, it was time to let go.

I smiled at Vader. _Qui-Gon was right about a great many things, _I thought, taking great care to shield my mind from his. _You are not my legacy. Luke is my legacy and this I do for him, for his victory. I failed you, Anakin, but I will not fail him. _Then closing my eyes, I lifted my blade up to my face, leaving myself completely defenseless. Vader did not waste this opportunity and I sensed his attack as he brought his blade about in a swift horizontal arc...

* * *

_I am surprised by the sameness. So surprised, in fact, that for a moment I think it did not work. Sights and sounds are the same: I see Vader swing his blade, I hear my lightsaber clatter to the floor, and I hear Luke. My heart aches as he screams in anguish for me. But then I see Vader before me, his attention on the floor. Looking down, I watch him as he stomps on my robe, which lies in a puddle at his feet. He is astonished that I am nowhere to be seen. _I _am astonished! It did work!_

_But I cannot marvel at this for long, the Force—no longer a separate presence flowing through me but rather something that simply _is _me—is pulling me elsewhere. I am drawn into the hanger and am filled with terror for my Padawan. His anguished cry has attracted the attention of the stormtroopers and they are firing at him. He is shooting back, but he is in shock, not running for cover, just standing in the middle of the hanger, blasting stormtroopers in rapid succession. He is filled with darkness: loss and anger. His companions—Leia is one of them, I note with satisfaction—are backing him up from the cover of the _Millennium Falcon _and urging him to flee, but he doesn't listen. Only when Solo shouts for him to blast the door does anything get through his grief-clouded mind and he hits the door controls with a precision that surprises me. The blast doors slam shut, cutting off Vader and half of the stormtroopers, but the danger is still great._

"_Run Luke, run!" I cry out._

_Finally he stops, as if awakening from a dream, and he sprints toward the _Falcon_. Bloody Sith, he heard me! I am with him in the Force!_

_When Luke is aboard, the ship's repulsors fire and she is off like a mynock out of hell._

_I want to go with them, with Luke, but it is too soon and my new reality too foreign to me as of yet. But I know they will escape, I know they will get the plans to the Alliance. I will be patient until I can be with him again._

* * *

_By the time I find Luke again, he is already preparing for war. He is flying an X-Wing against that battle station, the "Death Star" they call it. I cannot yet appear to him, but I know I can make him hear me. I will be here if he needs me. I am his Master and he my Padawan. As he takes off, I tell him: "Luke, the Force will be with you."_

_He does hear me and is surprised by my presence. Waving me off as if I am a dream, he returns his attention to his fighter and flies with the rest of his squadron into combat._

_It is a deadly battle and many Alliance pilots are killed. "Luke, trust your feelings!" I instruct him. He taps his helmet, thinking he his hearing things through his comm unit. He still has much to learn._

_Vader has joined the fray. He never could resist a dogfight, starfighter to starfighter. Does he sense he is flying against his son?_

_The first run on the Death Star fails and the Alliance regroups for another go. Luke is ordered to wait at the edge of the battle as another group goes in. They fall short as well, their targeting computer failing to find its mark._

_Now Luke's group is moving in. I know he will fare no better if he relies on the targeting computer. Only guidance from the Force will give him the accuracy he needs. "Use the Force, Luke," I counsel him. He pauses, considering whether I am real or merely his imagination. "Let go, Luke!" I urge, echoing Qui-Gon's words to me._

_I have his attention now, and he is considering my words. "Luke, trust me," I implore him, and he does. Leaning to his right he switches off the targeting computer._

_His comrades on the ground are shocked but Luke tells them everything is fine. Everything is not fine, however. Vader is on him, senses his strength in the Force. He will have him—_

_But then Vader is gone, sent spinning out of control into space as the flaming wreckage from one of his wingmen hurtles into him. Wreckage caused by none other than Han Solo and the _Millennium Falcon, _a late entry into the conflict. I knew that I liked that Corellian, that somewhere in him there was tremendous honor._

_Luke is now clear and the Force is flowing through him, guiding his aim. Under its direction he fires, scoring a direct hit. As he and his few surviving comrades flee, the Death Star explodes, ripping through the Force. The death I sense is painful, but it lacks the innocence of Alderaan. Death begets death._

_Luke is breathing hard, a litany of thanksgiving tumbling across his lips. "Remember," I tell him, echoing my last words to him when I was still physically with him, "the Force will be with you, always."_

* * *

_I am now more adjusted to my new reality and I can travel with ease. I also can appear in my own physical form, one with the Force and yet distinct. Luke is celebrating his victory with his new friends and does not need me at the moment, so I journey elsewhere, finding a different presence in the Force. Older, well-trained, more focused. _

_I am in a cramped but cozy hut, not unlike my own home on Tatooine, except for the small size and the fact that it is surrounded by dark swamps. Before me with his back turned, contentedly stirring a pot on the fire, stands a diminutive figure swathed in a rough, beige robe._

"_Yoda."_

_He does not turn and I sense no surprise from him. _"Obi-Wan." _Not Ben, Obi-Wan. He continues stirring his dinner. At length he says, _"A disturbance in the Force I sensed when left this life, you did. A great loss it was." _He turns toward me now, his weathered face etched with sadness. But then his face softens. _"But a great victory as well."

_I nod soberly._

"And the boy, for him a great victory as well, hm?"

"_Yes. He is strong in the Force. He has much to learn, but has made a good start."_

"Hm," _Yoda repeats thoughtfully._

"_Shall I bring him to you to complete his training?"_

_For a long while he doesn't answer, but closes his eyes, looking inward. Finally he says, _"What think you?"

_Now it is my turn to pause, to look inward. And when I do reply, my answer surprises even me._

"_Forgive me, Master," I begin, slipping back into the student role with Yoda out of habit, "but I think the Jedi made many mistakes in those last days. We had become too aloof, too isolated, too removed from those we served. Our fear of attachment was our downfall. We made it easy for Palpatine to stir fear in their hearts because few knew us. If we take Luke now, fresh off this victory, if we isolate him from his peers, then we are repeating that mistake, if not compounding it. He is a hero now, larger than life. Take him away now and he remains that way, something distant and foreign to those fighting the Empire. If, however, he stays and fights along side of them, they will know him and trust him. He will not be an enigma to fear, but a well-loved friend with a special talent. And Luke will understand why he is fighting. He will see the struggle firsthand and it will be his struggle. It is a perspective I think he needs."_

"Much danger, there is. Sense him, his father does."

"_Yes, and with the notoriety from destroying the Death Star, Vader will learn who he is before long. But that was inevitable. For all his strength in the Force, he has been repeatedly unsuccessful in locating the rebels. I think Luke will be safe with them."_

"Ah, but a powerful bond there is between father and son. Help him in locating the rebels, it may."

"_Possibly," I concede, "but I will be watching. If and when the danger is too great, I will send him to you."_

"Hm." _He turns away from me and resumes stirring his dinner. I wait patiently, knowing Yoda will speak only when he is ready. For a long while we are both silent, and when he does speak he does so without turning back toward me. _

"The Old Jedi Way, the way that denies all attachment, gone it is. Gone it should have been, perhaps, long before born the Emperor was. Attachments we all had, Obi-Wan. Attachment for the Republic, Master Windu had. Attachment to your padawan, you had. Attachments that to your credit they were. But an attachment I had as well, and denied it at our peril, I did."

"_Master?" I ask with curiosity, as it is difficult to imagine Yoda with an attachment of any sort._

"Attachment to the Old Jedi Way, I had. Attachment to a philosophy and not to the people it serves. Blind, it made me. No, no," _he says, leaning his spoon against the edge of his pot with a harrumph and turns to face me. _"Gone the Old Jedi Way is. With young Skywalker, born the New Jedi Way is. Attachment he _needs. Love _he needs. The only light strong enough to hold back the darkness, love is."

_He turns back to his pot and takes up his spoon again, resuming stirring for a moment before speaking again. _"Agree with you, I do. Wait, we shall."

_Though he can not see me with his back turned, I bow my head to him, then prepare to leave._

"Obi-Wan," _he says suddenly, and I pause. _"Come, sit with me while my dinner I prepare."

"_I never thought I'd be grateful that I can't eat anymore."_

_Yoda chuckles and suddenly I feel at ease._

"Much to discuss we have. And an old friend, waiting to see you there is."

_Before he finishes the sentence, I am already sensing the new presence in the Force that has joined us. I turn, and Qui-Gon is standing beside me._

_He smiles at me, a warm smile of fatherly pride._ "Welcome home, Master Jedi."


End file.
